The Fountain's Child
by Frodo Silverlune
Summary: Part two in 'Hero' trilogy. Will Link find the courage to accept healing for the wounds of his soul? Must he overcome his most dreaded enemy alone, or does someone exist who can help him?
1. Chapter 1

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' _

_By FrodoBaggins87_

Disclaimer: I don't own the Legend of Zelda, or any characters, places, worlds, or scenarios associated with it.

**Chapter 1

* * *

**

Ablaze with a thousand flames of yellow light, Hyrule Castle bathed itself in glory as the excited line of carriages moved eagerly into the welcoming glow of celebration. Threading down the sand-paved road between the green hills leading up to the majestic archway, guest after guest passed across the drawbridge, hoof beats echoing across the grand planks above the shimmering black water, glittering with the reflection of torches.

The Princess Zelda. Her name floated back and forth in the atmosphere over the smiling heads flowing into the castle for her birthday celebration. And the soon-to-be woman was pleased. Almost.

Piercing violet eyes tried not to glaze over her guests as they lavished her in compliments, but she could not help searching for one in particular, whom she had invited, but had received no reply.

"My Lady, it is almost time. Nearly everyone is here, and the guests are getting impatient."

"_Nearly_ everyone," she pointed out to the page.

"The King requests you join him on the dias. Whomever you are waiting for you will surely meet throughout the course of the evening."

She sighed. She did need to consider her other guests.

"Very well. But do not shut the gates. I'm sure he will come."

* * *

The drawbridge was quiet save for the flickering of the laughter and music within when cantering up the road came a lone rider on a chestnut mare. Pulling his mount to a walk as he approached the drawbridge, he produced from beneath his white cloak an invitation, and was waved through without delay.

Dismounting gracefully in the courtyard, he handed his reigns to a waiting page and after murmuring something unintelligible to his horse, he strode quickly up the wide steps and through the wide doorway.

As a footman took his cloak, he surveyed the scene before him. Lords and ladies dressed in their finest, creatures from the far corners of the land, even foreign sovereigns had come. And at the far end of the room seated beneath a canopy bearing the Triforce, the standard of the Royal Family, sat the King and his daughter.

'Well, at least I'm at the right place,' he thought to himself.

'But why am I here?'

'In response to her invitation. Courtesy.'

Of course. And curiosity. He had never been to a royal celebration; why not?

A trumpet call silenced the chattering crowd. The King rose to his feet.

"Honored guests, it is my greatest joy to welcome you tonight to Hyrule Castle, in celebration of my daughter's twentieth birthday. The Princess Zelda is pleased to have such loyal friends and subjects in attendance tonight. Enjoy yourselves and the hospitality of Hyrule."

He sat down and another trumpet sounded, sending the guests migrating towards the long tables encircling the room piled with colorful arrangements of food.

'Supper call,' he decided. It was a good thing he had read those books on court practices. Now all he had to do was find his seat.

"Sir?"

He turned in surprise to a young page standing humbly behind him.

"Yes?"

"The Princess requests to see you immediately."

"Thank you."

The page bowed and left.

Realizing he was almost alone in the middle of the room, the young man made his way quickly left to the other side of the square of tables, maneuvering his way through the people taking their seats as he moved toward the High Seats. He could see the Royal Family, all two of them, surrounded by courtiers and servants as they looked down on the Great Hall bustling with life and sound. He hoped the Princess' urgent errand would be a lengthy one. Then he wouldn't have to make a fool of himself with his country ways.

"Link!"

He hadn't rounded the corner yet before the Princess stood and her attendants parted as she stepped forward to meet him, smiling. Stunned, Link tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

"My Lady," he bowed. Dazzling in the full blossom of emerging woman-hood, he had never seen a creature as beautiful as the one that now stood before him. Could this magical being truly be Zelda? The Seventh Sage? The little girl in the garden? Her golden hair was pulled up behind her head to cascade in a waterfall of waves and ringlets down to her mid-back. The shimmers of her crystal violet gown paled in comparison to the ameythests of her eyes, deep and mysterious, overflowing with wisdom and passion. He bowed again, this time in reverence. She laughed.

"My Lord," she smiled, and took his arm, guiding him to a seat close to hers. He read the name on the placard and looked at her in surprise.

"Of course I knew you would be here. You're too polite to refuse a Royal Invitation, Link."

That was more of the Zelda he knew. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and caught more than one glance of jealous envy from suitors his own age as he took his seat. There seemed to be a lot of them scattered throughout the hall. Apparently the Princess guessed his thoughts.

"My father invited them," she said softly. "He wants me to be exposed to potential husbands." She shook her head, and Link nodded.

"I'm sorry," he sympathized, and grinned. "It's good I'm not a prince."

"Oh, but a prince has the much easier task," she objected as the servants set the first course on the table. "He can pick a queen to produce heirs and a haerem to produce pleasure, never giving another thought about it. It is much more difficult picking a man."

"True."

* * *

"Lords and Ladies, please choose your partners for the traditional Hylian Mid-Year Dance."

Zelda could have had any of the young men in the crowd. But something pulled her hand away from the suitors and handsome embassadors toward the corner of the room, where standing in the front of the ring of onlookers stood a figure in white, arms crossed over his chest while he watched the couples emerging onto the dance floor. She hadn't had a good chance to look at Link until now, with the crowds and demands of being hostess. She wondered why.

Something broke in her chest and burst into life. Was it the way the candlelight caught stray locks of yellow hair that refused to stay in place? Was it his attire, so familiar yet so new: white boots, spotless long-sleeved tunic embroidered modestly in fascinating designs of gold at the neck, wrists, and hemline? No…it was something else. She needed to find out.

She offered him her hand, and something flickered across his eyes as he took it delicately and led her forward.

"Do you know how to dance?" She asked, hoping he couldn't tell she was trying to be brave. One side of his mouth twisted upwards.

"We'll see."

The music began. Brisk in the beginning, couples rotated partners until everyone had gone around one time, then as the tempo slowed and the pairs had found each other again, they split and entered a hundred different worlds as each two became one figure on the floor, spinning, floating, swimming in the music of the dance.

It was his eyes, she decided. The fathomless blue of a thousand thoughts and emotions inside fighting for release. He was fighting, she could tell. Fighting what?

Link was fighting for control. Why had he accepted her hand? He had put himself in this inescapable situation, locked himself to her until the end of the dance. And every tiny thing about her, the feel of her hand through her gloves, the way one particular curl bounced across her shoulder, was stirring something deep inside of him. Something he had thought would never, should never, emerge.

"Are you hot?"

The dance had ended, and he realized he was sweating. The Princess had asked the question. He quickly pulled away.

"I'm fine," he said, and bowed clumsily. "Thank you, your Highness."

She was looking at him with concern.

"I think we need to talk."

'No!'

It was too late. She had led him through an archway into gardens lit here and there with glowing paper lanterns. She sat on a bench and waited.

"How have you been?"

He knew what she meant. He nodded.

"There have been no…relapses," he said lowly, standing so his face was concealed in shadow.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"And have you seen Malon?"

"It was she who taught me to dance yesterday," he said, and he could feel her smile. "She is well and sends her greetings."

"If you see her, send her the same from me."

"I shall."

Silence. Only the chirping of the crickets in the hedge.

"It's a lovely party," Link said.

"Thank you."

He pulled out something small from his trouser pocket and handed it to her.

"Happy Birthday," he said, "and thank you."

"Oh!" The Princess exclaimed as she took it. "Should I open it now?"

He nodded.

A little brass clasp secured the small leather box, and as she opened it a blue light poured forth streaked with shreds of crystal and sparkles of white. Her lips parted and her eyes opened wide.

"Oh Link…it's…it's beautiful."

Carefully she lifted the gem on its chain and held it so she could examine the small tear-shaped jewel.

"It's called the Fountain's Child," he said, "from the Zoras. It is said to contain the laugh of the first Zora-child ever born, and will bless the first-born of the one who wears it."

Zelda tenderly touched the blue stone, and Link thought he saw a tear in her eye.

"You must have had quite an adventure to obtain this," she smiled, but instead of him launching into the story of how he had won it from a water-devil, he blushed and shuffled his feet.

"Not exactly."

"Well, Zoras don't give these things away freely you know."

"One did."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you. She'd be furious if she found out I'd given it away."

"Ruto?"

Link's eyes grew wide as he realized she'd guessed.

"You won't tell her, will you? She gave it to me after I defeated Morpha in the Water Temple and told me she wished the child could have been…ours…but she had been destined otherwise."

Zelda burst into laughter, making him blush harder than ever.

"The Spiritual Stone! I remember, she told you she gave it to you because she wanted you to be her husband."

"I had no say in the matter, Princess, remember that. I only took it because you told me to. Apparently Ruto thought otherwise. She gave me the Fountain's Child to remember her by. And now, it belongs to you."

"Are you sure?" She teased.

"Yes."

Zelda fastened the jewel around her neck, its light catching the sparks in her eyes.

"Thank you, Link. But I don't need a stone to be blessed by the one who gave it."

* * *

_To be continued!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero'_

By FrodoBaggins87

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda.

**Chapter 2**

* * *

The market square was a bustle of activity, opening its wares to the morning sun. It was impossible to tell just last evening in the castle overlooking the town a grand celebration had taken place, but it had. And now Link was back to being 'normal' again.

It seemed like a distant dream. Had last night really been? Had he really gone to the castle like a noble and danced with the Princess? Apparently so, because he was missing a certain jewel. Not that it mattered, really.

He sighed. It was a tiresome business seeking employment. What could, or should, he do? He really didn't want to spend all day cooped up indoors, or making things in a shop, and selling wares seemed rather dull. He could join the castle guard, but with his skills far surpassing those of an ordinary soldier, what was the point?

As Link wandered among the stalls displaying all sorts of tools, pottery, fresh fish, fruits and vegetables from nearby villages, he noticed a weapons stand.

'This isn't the time to be gloating over shiny things,' his logic reprimanded. But perhaps the merchant might give him some ideas.

"Good day sir! Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Link's gaze wandered over the polished knives, hooks, fancy arrows, and things to the swords on display hanging from the supports of the canopy. He tore his eyes away and focused instead on the middle-aged, scarred and tattooed keeper of the booth.

"Thank you, but I have enough weapons. I was wondering if perhaps you know a skilled trainer?"

The man's face broke into a crooked grin.

"I might know one or two," he said, easing himself into a position of superiority, "if instruction is what you want. What's your name, lad?"

"My name is of no consequence, really," Link said carefully. "And actually I was looking to instruct others."

The man's eyes opened wide.

"You're that good, eh? How about testing your skill in a friendly competition?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

The shopkeeper broke into laughter.

"Are you afraid of being beat, pretty boy?"

"No," Link said evenly, "I only wish to know the names of local masters. I don't seek to prove myself in front of women and children. The market is no place for combat."

"Ha," the man snorted, "I knew it. You're a coward. How about this. If you win, I'll give you my recommendation to the greatest sword-master in Hyrule."

Link paused. Was it really worth it? All he had to do was disarm the man and claim his reward. But was it fair?

"Sir, weapons are not to be played with as you are suggesting. I will have no part in 'friendly' competition. There is no such thing in the realm of warfare and to say so is to speak a deadly lie."

The man put away two fencing swords he had begun to draw from beneath his counter. Respect was in his eyes.

"Well said, young warrior. A true soldier never uses his skills without utmost necessity. I see you at least have your head in the right place. Perhaps I could give you a few letters."

Link bowed his head respectfully.

"Thank you sir."

He waited while the shopkeeper scratched away on a piece of paper.

"Whom may I be introducing?"

"My name is Link."

"Link? Is there nothing else?"

"No."

The man finished the letter, folded it, and stamped it with the seal of a gold ring he bore on his right hand.

"This is for the Master of White Mountain. You'll find his hall easily enough if you ask for it in the village. My you find favor in the eyes of the goddesses."

"Thank you sir."

"Show them the Seal of Daytoru and they'll let you through the gates. The people of White Mountain are suspicious of strangers since their secrets were stolen. Be careful."

"I will. Thank you again."

* * *

The White Mountains were fit for nothing more than grazing goats, Link decided as he led Epona carefully along the winding road cut through a rocky maze. Perhaps that's what the villagers did for their living, raising goats among what vegetation could grow amidst the stones and boulders. Here and there he glimpsed a shadow dart away, but besides that, not a living soul was to be seen amidst the scarce grass and tiny yellow flowers.

It was cold, cold and windy, which was to be expected considering the high elevation. Mountain goats. Or perhaps they had a new breed of animal up here. He had seen many on his travels.

'Do I really want to live up here?' Link wondered, glancing below him at the pine trees down in the valley. He had never been so high, not even among the Gorons. Well, the thin air would build lung strength, if the Master accepted him.

'It will build experience so I can get hired on flatter land,' he decided. 'After all, I have to start somewhere.'

He wondered how his cucoos were doing. Undoubtedly Malon was taking good care of them and his other pets, but strangely enough he missed them. He stroked Epona's soft muzzle.

"Don't worry, girl, at least I've got you. How do you like the mountains, hm? Rocks, rocks, and oh look, more rocks. You could do with some fresh grain. And oats. What about a carrot or two? An apple. Oh stop it, now you're making me hungry."

Still talking, they passed over a small ridge and the mare snorted and tossed her head. On the other side Link saw that at last he had come to the village, or rather, the gates in front of the village.

Two burly guards stood on either side of a gate set in a gap between two sheer walls of rock. Beyond, he could see smoke rising and hear the combined noise of people going about their day.

"Who are you?"

One of the guards stepped forward, hand on the hilt of a great sword he wore at his side. He was dressed in hard leather armour and bore a helm on his bearded head, beneath which two eyes black as diamonds glittered suspiciously at the newcomer.

"My name is Link. I come seeking the Master of White Mountain." He pulled the letter from his saddlebag and showed the seal to the guard, who examined it and nodded once.

"We open our gates to those bearing the seal of Daytoru. Welcome to White Mountain."

The other guard who had remained silent unlocked a strange device and swung aside one door of the gate, allowing Link to lead Epona through. As soon as he had passed, however, he heard the gate bolted securely behind him. He felt oddly like a prisoner.

Link found himself in a strange place. The village was built on a shelf jutting out from the mountainside. To his back the rock wall plummeted off into infinite space. The shelf ended abruptly to his right, while opposite him another wall rose high against the blue sky. All together, the scene resembled a giant throne where the mountain was the back rest, the rock walls were the arm rests and the village nested happily on the seat.

He had been right. Along the sloping mountainside hundreds of goat-like animals were grazing amid the gray boulders.

"Well, girl, how would you like stone for breakfast? At least the wind isn't so strong here."

Carefully he nudged the mare down onto the shelf, approaching the solidly-built stone dwellings whose sharply slanted roofs ran almost to the ground on either side, creating a stark, straight edge cutting across the tops. The roofs were shingled with some sort of slate-like material, Link noticed, and behind each was a paddock doubtless for keeping the goats at night.

People began to emerge from their homes and stare at him as he walked through the village, heading for the larger structure on the far end. Perhaps it was the horse. He hadn't seen any large animals in this place so far.

Nevertheless, it did not take him long to reach his destination, and as he approached a man emerged from the building with his arms crossed over his chest, silent.

"My name is Link. I seek the Master of White Mountain."

"The Master of White Mountain is not accepting pupils," the leader said in a gruff voice.

"I am not seeking instruction. I have a letter for him."

Link handed the man Daytoru's letter, and much to his surprise the man broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents before he could protest.

"And who do you think I am?" The Master said. "I have no use for you. You have wasted your time."

"On the contrary, the journey has taught me much. In my travels I have never seen life obtained from stone and rock, nor known a people could dwell in the clouds. There is great strength here, and beauty."

The Master, who had turned and begun to go inside, stopped and pierced Link with his gaze.

"Not many who have come see the beauty of our home," he said. "They do not care to look beneath the stones' plain face. Yet what do you hope to gain from this?"

"I wish to perform a service, if it is needed. If not, I shall be on my way."

"Leave us," the Master told the crowd who had gathered, and the people began to move away.

"Young man, we will continue our discussion inside. Come."

"Master, I should like to see my horse is comfortable before I am so."

"So be it. You will find such supplies you need at the back."

"Thank you."

The door shut in his face.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to Hero_

By FrodoBaggins87

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. Oh and a NOTE: Link's thoughts, both sides, are now going to be in italics, due to a comment pointing out it was hard to distinguish. So, enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter 3

* * *

**

"You wish to instruct my pupils, do you not?"

"Yes, if possible."

"Follow me."

The Master of White Mountain led Link through the dwelling so quickly he hardly had time to catch the surroundings. To his surprise, the man led him to a flight of steps fading into darkness below the floor.

Following him down beneath the earth, Link eventually arrived in an enormous cave furnished as a training ground. All around the circular space were stacked racks of weapons of every kind: spears, lances, long bows, swords, maces, not to mention rows of cabinets obviously housing hand-held devices. Far above his head the natural cavern arched, forming a kind of bubble in stone. But wait, there were holes- balconies scattered across the curved walls where one could look down upon the practice floor from above.

Link tried not to show his astonishment when the master looked back to see if he was still following. It hadn't seemed like such a long trip down.

The master stopped in the middle of the floor, inlaid with tiled fencing circles, marks, and lines of every kind. He turned to face Link.

"This is my studio. My training grounds. Where are my students, you ask? I sent them home for today. We are alone."

Suddenly the man raised his hands above his head and a glowing red fire hovered between his palms. On instinct, Link summoned a crystal and cast it to the floor just as the master did the same, meeting Din's Fire with his own protective shield, the violet magic of Nayru's Love. His heart pounded as the last of the fire-walls' flames died away and he let his shield down. The master nodded.

"You have been given magic. Very good. Pick a weapon, anything you want."

Fetching a solid, double-edged sword from the many hanging on one wall, Link returned cautiously to the center with his senses alert. He felt more than heard something zipping for the back of his head, and with a great back-spin slashed the creature in two, only to find it was not two but three hands scuttling around on the floor. A spin attack quickly dispelled the remnants of the Floor Master.

Slowly Link straightened and faced the master in this game of skills.

"I see you have had much experience, Hero of Time," the man said, and held up a hand. "Yes, I know who you are. Your reputation proceeded your coming, and there are few who have found favor with the Great Fairies to have such magic. If you can pass this next test, perhaps I will consider your request."

Link remained silent and waited for the next command.

"Fetch a bow and quiver."

He quickly returned with the items. The master had a brown clay sphere in his hand. Link thought he could guess what was coming.

"I want you to shatter this ball with a single arrow," the man said, black eyes betraying no emotion. In fact, nothing had crossed his hard features since Link's arrival.

"Stay there," he commanded, and walked quickly towards the opposite side of the room from which they had entered. The master whipped a dark sheet off of an enormous mirror and set the ball on a stand in the center of it, then made his way back to Link and stood behind him with his arms crossed.

Link watched his reflection string the bow and notch and arrow to the string, bringing it up to his ear.

'_Unsteady…'_ a voice whispered in his head. The first rule of archery was to have a steady hand. But how could he, staring at himself in the mirror, finally seeing how he must look to his foes right before loosing the shaft to end life? He tried to focus on the small object, such an easy distance! How could he not hit it?

He drew the string back, arm trembling. The image in the mirror was hideous. He always avoided looking at himself whenever he could. And how did he know he wasn't on the other side, ready for the arrow to pierce his heart, spilling his life blood until he crumpled lifeless to the floor?

His fingers flexed to release the arrow, and suddenly the image changed. A wicked smile flashed across its face and in its hand it brandished the Knife. The arrow flew from Link's bow and thudded into the wood frame where it quivered with the force of its drive.

He had failed.

Link didn't realize he was shaking until he returned the weapons to their original places and saw his hand tremble as he leaned the bow against the wall.

The master covered the mirror and saying nothing, began up the steps leading towards the surface. Ashamed, Link followed with a bent head. A child could have hit that target! Yet he had failed because of his own reflection.

'I shall never be free of these demons that haunt me,' he despaired, hand unconsciously traveling to grip his arm where the scars were. He could feel them calling to him…taste their alluring kiss. He would remedy that tonight, maybe.

'_But I promised the Princess I wouldn't…do that again.'_

'_Who cares? You failed. You deserve a punishment.'_

He could feel the temptation overruling his word.

_Addiction…_

"Link." His attention snapped to the master, realizing they had emerged from the underground and were now standing in the middle of a common room, comfortable if sparsely furnished. The man was staring at him curiously, searching.

"I cannot use you," he said, exactly what Link had expected. "Your skills are great, young hero, but it is the inside I do not think is fit to teach, yet."

'_My problem…'_

"However, if you wish to stay and learn, I would welcome you gladly. I see great potential if you can learn to master your emotions."

'_I can't, they're too strong.'_

"Too strong for one who defeated the King of Evil?"

"I was not alone. The Princess Zelda used her power as well."

"After a long, grueling quest? Surely you have gained much wisdom and strength from such an experience."

"Not enough."

He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He hardly knew the man.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, Great Teacher," Link bowed. "Thank you for receiving me."

He began heading towards the door.

"Stop!"

Link stopped.

"You will stay for refreshment, will you not? The day grows long and it is cold upon the trail."

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I need to get going."

'_I am unworthy of it,'_ was what he meant, but dared not say such aloud.

"At least stay for one night," the master said, features softening. "My wife enjoys company, and your horse wouldn't mind either."

Link thought. Epona could use the rest, and it seemed rude to refuse again.

"If you insist," he said softly, hoping he wouldn't regret it. As long he could sleep someplace private, perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea.

"Good then!" A smile cracked across the master's face. He gestured toward a low couch. "Please make yourself comfortable while I tell my wife."

Link nodded and the man left the room, boots tapping quietly on the floor. He wondered why the master would invite him to stay when he had failed the test. Did he feel sorry for him? Had he seen the image in the mirror?

Of course, that's why he had made the comment about being unfit on the inside. Well, perhaps one night out of the cold wind would do him good.

'_I'm getting soft,'_ he thought as he sat on the couch. _'A few nights in the wild and I'm wishing for something comfortable. That will never do.'

* * *

_

The master's wife was a beautiful, albeit aging woman. She had seen many things in her time, and many people besides. As she watched the young warrior pick at his food - her prized recipe - with a hungry face, she saw beneath the smooth mask veiling his eyes.

'_He's hungry,'_ she thought to herself, _'he simply won't eat. Could he be afraid of becoming overweight?'_

She had had a friend before with the same problem.

"I'm not that bad of a cook," she smiled at him, and after a flash of shocked hurt had been thrust instantly away, he tried to apologize.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, it's delicious, but I'm not hungry."

"Mmm hmm," she raised an eyebrow knowingly. Only she could have detected the guilt as he glanced down at his plate again and took a tiny bite. The forced movements of his hands as he fought to control his appetite she wondered her husband didn't notice.

"There's plenty to eat, you needn't starve yourself."

She knew the hollowness of his cheeks meant he had had little to eat in the past few days. When _had_ food last touched his lips? Why?

He nodded and took a larger bite, chewing thickly, casting a fast glance towards her husband. Was he trying to prove himself?

She wondered if he would allow her to speak to him after dinner. He was eating steadily now, and before she knew it his plate was empty. Even he seemed surprised, from what little she could read. Even for an experienced lady like herself, he hid his emotions very well.

'_Emotions that must manifest in some way…'_

A wild, terrified glance shot across his eyes as he realized he had taken a bread roll and demolished it like a starving slave. Yet he reached for another. Something was definitely wrong.

'_He's eating. What can be wrong with that?'

* * *

_

Link knew he was eating too fast, again. Why had she looked at him like that? He remembered the strawberries, not the only occurrence. It was going to come again, the pain and the sickness. But he was so hungry. His stomach was a bottomless pit. Why couldn't he eat normally?

It came. Pain so terrible and so sudden he dropped his spoon with a clatter and could barely ask to be excused, shoving his chair loudly across the stone floor as he stumbled towards the exit. It was too late.

The knife in his belly twisted his knees from under him and he fell hard to the floor, where his dinner emptied upon the stones. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead as his muscles convulsed in disgust and humiliation. He was so low. Dirt couldn't do him justice. Messing these kind peoples' floor, ruining their dinner with his defiling presence.

Something touched his trembling shoulder. A hand.

He still clutched his napkin in one hand, and he tried to hide the mess he had made. It stank.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, nose dripping. He was empty again. Empty and so tired.

"Why did you do that?" The lady asked as she guided him to his feet.

"I…I didn't mean to," he stammered, hoping the tears wouldn't be noticed under his bangs. "I'll…clean it up."

"No you won't. You'll have a bath, lay down, and after a bit have some tea to settle your stomach."

"You're too kind to me," he said, meaning every word. How could she stand to touch him? Hadn't she just seen what had happened? Tea must be very expensive up here.

She guided him down a hall and into a washroom where a large kettle of boiling water stood ready next to a large tub. Soap and towels were waiting. He didn't want to ask if that had been prepared for their own wash.

The motherly woman sat him down on a chair and deftly wiped his face with a cool damp rag. He started in surprise. She didn't seem to notice.

"Now take off that shirt and we'll get you clean in no time."

What? Did she mean…

"You don't mean to bathe me?" Link asked incredulously. She turned an eye on him as she mixed water in the tub.

"Well I suppose if you want it your way I'll leave you to your privacy."

"No, I didn't mean, yes, I would like, but no, I never meant to be rude."

She smiled and ruffled his hair.

"I understand, dear. If you need anything, just ask."

'_Dear, she called me dear.' _

The single word of endearment (a/n- enDEARment…bah hah hah, nevermind) struck a chord in his heart, leaving him dazed with his tunic half-off. This was a new feeling, but was it? Was that what he really wanted?

'_Love.' _

The answer came so sudden and so true he almost fell getting into the tub. This was what this was all about.

'_What?'_

'_I only want someone to like me…'_

'_Selfish! Evil, selfish, self-centered thing! You know you don't deserve anything like **love**. Stupid boy. You should say you want to lay her and be honest.'_

'_NO! That's not what I meant.'_

'_Liar.'_

'_No…'_

Link splashed water on his face to wipe away his anger. The knife was coming back tonight, and it would be hungrier than ever.

* * *

To be continued! 

YES! ANGST! I can't help loving angst, peoples. It's what fuels my stories. Oh boy I just can't wait to torture Link again. Am I crazy? Yup. In an odd way.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero'_

_By FrodoBaggins87_

_Disclaimer: I don't own friggin Zelda. Oh, and thank you kindly to all who have reviewed. If you haven't read 'Hero,' I strongly suggest doing so._

**Chapter 4

* * *

**

The door closed softly guided by the kind woman's hand. As the latch clicked into place, the eyes watching it faded and dulled into lust, blood lust.

The dagger was in Link's hand as though it had never known absence. He felt the liquid rise up through his chest to spill out of his lips in a whispered moan. He tore off his shirt and set the slender edge against the flesh of his belly, leaning into the knife's kiss in rapture. Heat pulsated through his fingertips and forehead and his breath came in short, excited gasps.

Blood consumed him. Red poured through his mind with the intoxication of the gash in his skin. A drop fell to the floor, and another. He sank to his knees in worship of the blood.

It was not enough. He drew the knife from sinking further and sliced below the cut he had made.

The Princess' face suddenly appeared before him, an apparition, her eyes begging, pleading.

'_You promised, you gave your word,'_ she said, a tear leaking down her cheek.

Link hung his head in shame as the rush faded, leaving him weak and spent. He had broken his word. Betrayed her.

'_Betrayer, betrayed her! Betrayer, betrayed her! Betrayer, betrayed her!'_

He grabbed his forehead in pain.

'_I'm going insane.'_

'_In pain, insane. In pain, insane!'_

He felt a scream gathering beneath the open wound. He dropped the knife, stained with a lick of crimson along the edge. But no, it beckoned. It was sanity. It would save him from madness, it promised.

He caught it again, fingers wet with the stickiness of his destruction.

The world was spinning, white dipping, colors swirling, words chanting around and around inside the tiny space allotted them. It was too much. Emotions rose in waves around him, drowning him in blood.

He cut again, a long, delicate snake of red curving around his torso. The voices drew quieter.

'_I will push them back.'_

He brought the tip up to the center of his chest and let it trail down past his navel, feeling the madness sink lower with the knife until it settled in a pit of black filth.

Weakness. Incredible exhaustion. The world faded, the dagger fell from limp fingers as he collapsed into dark unknowing.

* * *

She smelled blood. Ioran, for that was her name, stood outside the young man's door in the early morning with the faint scent of dried blood tickling her nose. Should she go in?

She opened the door a crack, peeking in ever so cautiously.

The gray light of dawn creeping in through the window highlighted an empty bed. Link lay half-naked crumpled on the floor, blood crusted knife where it had fallen amongst dried drops of black on the stones. Forgetting propriety, Ioran rushed to his side and putting a cool hand to his neck, found it hot to the touch. Angry red lines gashed his shivering skin, and she stared in shock. He had cut himself.

Instead of everything instantly becoming clear to her, questions and anguish instead clouded her mind.

What had hurt him so?

Why had he done this?

She rose and fetched her husband, who, upon seeing the figure on the floor, looked at her with the same emotions she too felt in her breast. Carefully he picked the young man up and laid him on the ready bed, drawing the covers up to his chin. Link's face contorted in his sleep and gradually eased as he unconsciously discovered the comfort of his new position.

The master bent and picked up the knife like a poisonous snake, cleaning it on a rag and re-sheathing it from the scabbard discarded in a corner. The pair quietly left the room.

"I don't know what to do," Ioran whispered once they were outside. Her husband smiled.

"At last comes a challenge my wife is afraid to face?"

"Afraid, yes, but even so I will not shrink from it. The poor boy, do you really think he is the Hero of Time?"

He nodded.

"Undoubtedly so. I was in his place once, a long time ago, but not nearly as extreme. I think all we can do is offer what we have and see if he will accept it. He needs help."

"And what do we have to give?"

He smiled, and she knew. Hope blossomed in her once again.

"Yes, we do have that."

* * *

Link woke to find himself in bed with the sunlight illuminating the room about him. It had to be at least mid-afternoon. His hand strayed to the wounds on his chest. Bandaged? He didn't remember tending them.

He closed his eyes and wished he hadn't awoken. He would have to face another day. He turned on his side and curled into the blankets, trying to shut out the voices reminding him he had slept too late and dishonored his hosts. He was tired of disappointing people. And now he would have to start late in the day, and that meant another night out in the lonely wild.

But there was nothing to be done. He rose and dressed, wondering where he had put the knife. Strange, he didn't remember climbing in bed either. But he did remember everything, the disastrous dinner, the lust and destruction. He had been rather out of his head at the end, no wonder he didn't remember much. Why couldn't he find any bloodied rags? Anxiety knocked at his chest, thinking of what they would think if they found something he had hidden so well he could not find it.

'_Heh, I solved dungeons and mysteries yet cannot remember twelve hours ago!'_

But there was nothing to be done except retreat in disgrace. He wasn't worth winning this battle. What if he went against an enemy and let it destroy him? He shivered, remembering what common beasts did with their prey. That kind of death was too gruesome.

'_What did you expect, being a warrior, to die in your sleep?'_

No.

He picked up his bags and went carefully from the room, making his way outside to the stables. A thought struck him and he dug into his wallet-pouch, finding not as much as he would have liked, but enough. Hay must be terribly expensive on this barren rock.

Epona turned her head from biting her flank as her soft eyes settled on her master. She nodded her head once in greeting, white mane flapping softly. Link let warmth fill his eyes as he gazed on her fondly, allowing love to pour onto his loyal companion. Sliding aside the heavy barred door, he entered the stall and held up his hand, waiting for the mare to push her nose into his palm for treats.

Velvet interrupted by bumps and prickly short whiskers pushed against his tunic, and he felt pain rise within him as he laid his cheek against her strong neck and stroked her smooth chestnut coat.

"Good, sweet girl," he crooned softly as her head nudged the back of his shoulder, breath whooshing out of her nostrils in a sigh. Tension settled into his hand and was released with every drag down her fur.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Link jumped in surprise and almost bumped into Epona's chin as she reacted to his shock, pouncing up and away, head stiff, ears pinned. The Master stood in the doorway of the stall, watching him. How long been there?

"Good morning…afternoon, sir," Link said as smoothly as he could gather in the instant.

He nodded at the bags the young man had dropped.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I thought it best," Link explained, catching up his possessions and bowing his head. "Thank you for your generous hospitality." He dug into his wallet and pulled out two red rupees, offering them to his host. "I hope this is enough for stabling Epona, and whatever else might have…come…up…"

"And what would become of 'hospitality' if it wasn't hospitable?" The man raised an eyebrow. "I would be dishonored to accept money from a guest."

Blushing in shame, Link stuffed the gems back into his bag.

"I'm sorry, I truly meant no offense." He busied himself with checking the fastenings on his saddle-gear.

"You do not mean to depart so late in the day?"

"It was my fault for rising late."

"You needn't accept the blame for every thing."

Link felt something burning in his brow-line as he desperately kept his gaze on his task, finding nothing to say. He fit the saddle-blanket over his mare's back.

"I do not think the pain you feel is entirely your fault. You are going about solving it the wrong way."

'_Does he know?'_

The saddle was heavy! He had used to been able to lift it over his head with ease. Why now did his arms tremble so? He braced it against Epona's body to adjust his hold, but it slipped from his grasp and plopped to the floor.

"We can help you, Link."

He could not meet the master's eyes, much less turn his head to face him.

"You know?"

"Yes."

He remembered.

"You found me this morning, on the floor."

"Yes."

Link did not know what to do. Here was someone, whom he barely knew, offering to give him something terrible in its truth. But could he take it? A thousand voices shouted to his decision.

His stomach twisted.

His wounds stung.

His body cried for healing. Did it truly exist? Did this man really mean to help him?

"I…" Link started, and found he had not the courage to go on.

* * *

To be continued! 


	5. Chapter 5

**The Fountains' Child**

_By FrodoBaggins87 _Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Things will heat up from now on, promise! I finally have some plans...teehee hee.

**Chapter 5

* * *

**

Ruthless cold swept around Link's face, numbing his nose and stinging raw cheeks as in the bitter twilight he cantered into the foothills beneath White Mountain. He had long ago ceased to feel, and now emptiness clawed at his soul, having taken root in his frenzied flight from the summit. He was hollow, like a walnut shell stripped of the meat. Could he even feel pain? He wanted to know, but remorse and abhorrence kept the knife at bay, for now. Yet he knew the chains of his addiction would compel him to eventually return to the vile lover in disgrace.

Above a single star blinked through the atmosphere, a diamond in the velvet folds of night. Night was black, it would hide his sin. There was beauty in the night. Was he the only one who sought concealment from the nothingness beneath the absence of light?

_Is there nothing else?_

There had to be something other than this existence. Was pain, perpetual cowardness and hiding, was this all there was to hope for?

Suddenly his senses became alert. Perhaps it was the way Epona's ears laid flat against her skull as she froze, or perhaps it was his warrior's instinct, but hardly had he given a thought to what had happened when the shrubs entunneling the trail rustled and he was struck heavily by a flying body, sending him tumbling out of the saddle to tumble in the thick dust. Instantly several metallic rings sounded beneath the mare's frightened scream and Link, rolling to his feet, found himself surrounded by a ring of evilly grinning mercenaries. Crouching in readiness, he had only an instant before they made their move.

He was struck twice: tackled behind his knees and forward in his chest, the two opposite momentums causing his balance to fail as he fell sideways into four waiting arms which thrust him to the floor, twisting his arms behind his back as a slender knife was pressed to the hollow beneath his ear.

"Well, what a fine specimen we've caught, gentlemen. Tie it up."

Link struggled furiously as ropes taught as wires bound his wrists behind him and a noose slipped about his neck.

"What do you want?" He cried as they hauled him to his feet by the rope-collar, almost choking the words out of him.

He received no answer, only a stinging backhand across his face. Epona had long since fled into the night.

'_Flee, girl, run home,'_ he wanted to shout, but every time he resisted his captors as they dragged him into the woods he was snapped mercilessly back by his neck. Obviously they knew what they were doing.

He had had no time for fear during the struggle, but now he fought to keep the panic from rising. He needed to keep a cool head about him in order to conceive any means of escape.

Every minute was clear to Link as he sought to find direction from the stars, what were visible through the trees. But not enough had emerged for the night for him to see, and hardly had time passed at all before he realized with dread they had approached the robbers' camp.

Shoved to the forest floor like a fresh carcass before the master, firelight burned in Link's eyes as he wiggled into a sitting position with his legs tucked beneath him, ready to stand. A rough hand grasped his hair, forcing him to look up, and he beheld the leader of the gang. Tiny black eyes set in a mass of black beard and tangled hair glittered with greed as they seemed to survey him as an item for market.

"Good find, boys," he said in a smooth voice, too silken for his wild appearance. Another face materialized behind him.

"Rather obstinate, though," it said with a squeak. "Looks like a fighter."

"We'll break it." The ease and confidence with which the chief spoke chilled Link more than his soft voice. This man was evil, and unpredictable.

"What do you want with me?" Link spoke strongly, voice echoing from the chief's back as he released his hold and turned away. The man froze, firelight glinting off the polished leather of his stiff, studded breastplate.

"Reswec, see to its comfort."

A chorus of laughter ran through the assembly, and Link realized how many men had emerged from the shadows.

'_Two score at least,'_ he realized with dismay. There would be no fighting out of their band. He would have to sneak away at a precise moment.

The raw slice of a knife as it cut through his bonds was not lost on him, and he wrenched his arms to the front, standing quickly but not forgetting the rope around his neck. They would not release him if they thought he could escape. He waited for whatever would come next, senses viciously tuned and trembling as a mouse in a cat's paws.

"Well, aren't you going to fight?"

One of the robbers spoke, who it was did not matter. Link decided not to answer.

"Stubborn, isn't he?"

"Not for long."

Motionlessas one of the men traced along the rope until not a foot of slack remained, a calloused hand reached out from behind and fingered the earring in his right ear.

"Young, strong, and handsome," the man murmured, making the hair stand up on the back of Link's neck as he froze like a pillar, heart beating wildly. "He'll fetch a good price, if he ain't too dirty."

'_Slave traders.'_

The man's hand felt his cheek and down his neck, and unable to endure anymore, Link jerked away.

Mocking voices erupted in laughter and encouraged, the man caught him and bit his neck, hand reaching before Link with practiced ease ducked and flipped him over onto his back using a simple twist trick learned years ago. He felt his cheeks burning with something as his hands were tied again, this time in front of him and he was brought to face a tree.

"Stupid kid," he heard more than once while his arms were stretched above his head. His belt was removed and the ripping of fabric as they cut his clothing away from his back angered him. That had been one of his newer tunics.

A cheer erupted from the blood-thirsty men.

Fire cracked across the bare skin of his back, taking his breath away. So they meant to beat him into submission? Despite the pain, he grinned to himself. Let them come with their whips and hot irons, he was ready. As long as they didn't know who he was hope yet remained. If only he could survive until the auction…

Link could feel the blood trickling down his back, cooling drops amidst the raging flames as they whip struck on. Could he even taste it? Ah, he was biting his lip to suppress his cries. Sweat dripped from his face as a gasp made him raise pain-filled eyes to the shadows beyond his tree. Horror smote him.

Of course the rouges would have other captives, how could he not think so? A mother tried to shield the eyes of her daughter from the scene, but he caught the look of shock and hopelessness before she too turned away. Apparently shackled to each other, a huddled group of captives cast frightened glances toward his torture, glancing away when they saw he knew of them. All ages. Men and women. Ragged and hungry.

He was ashamed. Why? Perhaps it was being treated like a dog. Or was it something else?

The blows had stopped and Link found himself sagging against the ropes, trembling. He was only aware of the rope being released before he collapsed onto the ground breathing hard. A boot contacted with his raw back and his body arched in pain. Laughter and blood. Where had he seen these before?

'_The shadow…a monster…frightened children…'_

An iron collar was fastened about his neck attached to a chain. He was pulled away from the other captives and thrust into a small barred cage hardly large enough to sit up in.

Laughter and blood.

He lay where he had fallen.

Through the bars of his cell he could watch the dark fringe of the forest, so tantalizingly out of reach. Fingers poked at him and the firelight flickered.

'_Laughter and blood.'

* * *

_

To be continued!


	6. Chapter 6

**The Fountain's Child**

_By FrodoBaggins87_ Thank you reviewers. I hope things will get a little more interesting here. I seem to have lost a following...

**Chapter 6

* * *

**

'Twas in the gray shadows before the coming of dawn the soundless woodsmen began closing in on the slavers' camp, one cautious step at a time. The unsuspecting criminals for all appearances seemed to be asleep. Even the guard sat slumped over at his post, drool leaking down the front of his dirty doublet from his foul mouth.

After a night of frantic travel, the Master had been relieved to find the tracks of Link's captors easy to follow, thanks to Epona's quick wit in returning to him for help.

A light touch on the shoulder announced the presence of his lead scout.

'He's there, in cage. Other captives chained together.'

'How many?'

'Eighteen prisoners, forty-two foes.'

They conversed in a unique form of sign-language known only to the Master's most trusted men.

The Master's eyes grew sharp as he pondered this information. Yes, stealth was the most logical solution. He had thought it would be. He nodded and gave the signal to begin, beginning a silent prayer for help. By the looks of things, they would need it.

* * *

Link had barely slept. Slowly the crisp cold of the wee hours had lulled him into a half-aware state, laying with eyes open and unseeing. He watched a trail of ants scurrying in the grass at the bottom of his cage, occasionally passing with a whitish lump held high above their heads. Up so early? So was he.

A scent.

Something warm and familiar wafted past his nose. He knew that fragrance, but could it really be?

Blood.

Fresh blood now. How came his senses to be so tuned?

Fresh air. Something was stirring about the camp, although his eyes could not see whatever it was. Apprehension stirred his veins, and he nearly cried out in surprise when a small metallic click behind him announced the lock to the door of his cage had opened.

Knowing better than to make any sudden move, slowly, oh so slowly he began twisting around towards the door. None of the captors seemed to notice. Finally after what seemed like an eternity of heart-pounding, mind-clouding tension, he eased himself out the open door and rolled backwards to freeze in a cat-like crouch, ears on end for any change whatsoever. His prison was situated at least three yards from the edge of the woods, and now he was painfully aware of his obvious position.

Link dared a peek at the brush. Two friendly eyes nodded.

_'Go!'_

He reminded himself of a spider or crab as he used arm and leg muscles built specifically for this to creep across the ground, staying as low as possible. At last with hardly a rustle he slipped into the trees, into the welcome shadows.

A man lifted his mask briefly and Link recognized one of the guards for White Mountain. He had been right! He had thought he recognized that brush/goat scent. A strange emotion passed across his breast. The Master had come down to save him. He had run away in disgrace and the kind man had followed. No, he would think of that later.

Link nodded back into the clearing, and grimly the woodsman pointed. Vaguely Link could see shadows moving about the prisoners left on the ground, obviously freeing them from their chains before sweeping them one by one into the woods.

_'Yes!'_

Suddenly an angry yell sounded across the camp. The watchman's relief had seen the rescuers. A hot wrath instantly swelled in Link's breast, and dashing forward he snatched the sword from the sheath of the nearest sleeping form and promptly clocked the groping figure over the head with the hilt.

The rest of the Master's men had also drawn their weapons: and assortment of curved swords, heavy maces, staves, and a few bows. The camp instantly became a scene of confusion- robbers rushing too and fro, hand-to-hand battles, the screams of the prisoners, and in the midst their captain fully dressed hollering orders.

The men of White Mountain were clearly outnumbered at least three to one, but they had the element of surprise and superior training. Link saw they were dealing, slowly, with the rougher rouges. He began to make his way towards the captives, dodging fists, weapons, weaving around duelists, overcoming a few who tried to get in his way. How he left them he didn't want to know.

The man with the key was working furiously to unchain as many as he could, but was interrupted by the chaos around him. Link planted himself firmly between the brawl and the prisoners, not a second too soon for a furious thief came rushing towards them, sword raised above his head. He wished he could be more fair, but remembering how he had been captured, he decided running the man through to be the most humane thing he could do. Pushing the carcass off the end of his sword, he turned and caught the blade of another with his own, turning it aside easily and using the man's own momentum to spin him back into the fray with a metallic ring.

The sounds of swords clashing, roars of pain and fury, the sweat and blood of battle brought the warrior rush back into his blood. Kill or be killed. An iron pillar of loyalty wrought him to his post defending the captives. He understood now how soldiers would willingly die for their position.

Amidst a short pause, Link saw a strange sight. The Master of White Mountain, clad in loose-fitting garments brilliantly snow colored in the rising light had worked his way to the chieftain. He was fighting with a large broadsword against the chief's long pike. Guilt suddenly washed over him. The Master wouldn't be here now if he only hadn't run away…

Pain suddenly slashed across his right arm and he whirled to find the man who had confronted him the night before grinning wickedly.

"You think you can fight, pretty boy?"

Link waited for his next move. As it came, a wide diagonal sweep, he rolled out of the way and came up behind his foe. Without thinking he beheaded the man before he had recovered his balance.

He didn't have time to be surprised at his own brutality. The Master was clearly wanting, and the last of the captives had fled into the woods. The rouges were loosing- those who weren't dead or wounded were huddled in a group weaponless and shamed, carefully guarded. Only the chief seemed desperate enough to continue the fight.

Leaping over bodies, Link dashed to his rescuer's aid.

"Master!" he cried as he reached him, and the man glanced at him in surprise. It was only an instant, but it was all the chief needed to plunge his cruel pike into the Master's side.

"No!" Link charged the chief, blind with fury, and struck his weapon so it burst asunder. Such was his wrath that he scarcely saw the horror and confusion pass over the chief's face before he plunged his sword through the man's heart, ripping it out in disgust as he crumpled to the ground.

Link dropped his sword and stumbled towards the fallen Master.

'_No, no, no, this is wrong.'_

The man, face white, lay face up clutching his side, fighting to control the pain as crimson blood stained his brilliant robes. Link dropped to his knees and picking up a dagger, ripped open the Master's clothing to reveal the mangled flesh.

'_No…'_

The man was smiling.

"You're safe," he said.

Link could only shake his head, tears locked somewhere deep inside of him. This was wrong, so wrong.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "You've only been kind to me. You're not supposed to die."

The other warriors had gathered around, and suddenly a stretcher appeared. With a grunt two men lifted their leader onto it. Two more joined them in lifting it and immediately began jogging out of the clearing.

"Who said he's going to die?" The voice came from the guard who had led him to escape. "There may be hope for him yet."

But Link did not miss the lowness of his voice, or the despair that washed over the guards' eyes.

* * *

To be continued! 


	7. Chapter 7

**The Fountain's Child**

Sequel to Hero

By Frodo Silverlune (formerly FrodoBaggins87)

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"Young man, you must come away. Take some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Yes, you look it."

"I'm not leaving him."

"He's not going anywhere. Come, have some broth."

"I'm not hungry."

"That's what you said yesterday." Killian, for that was the name of the guard who had deemed it his duty to care for the odd youth with the golden hair, sighed in frustration. Link did not move from sitting cross-legged beside the sleeping Master. He lay prostrate on a makeshift bed in a canvas tent craftily erected at the base of the White Mountain trail. It had been too dangerous to move him home, the men had decided. Thus runners continually passed up and down the path with supplies and news.

All the mercenaries were accounted for. The ones who had surrendered were being escorted this minute into the nearest town.

A camp for the released captives had been assembled with surprising speed at the trail head. Occasionally a child's laughter would rise above the tents as they enjoyed their new freedom, warm clothing, and full bellies.

Killian set down a tray with steaming soup and a cup of water.

"At least allow me to tend your wounds."

Link clutched the blanket he had been loaned tighter across his shoulders.

"They're not bad."

'_I know, I saw,'_ the guard wanted to comment sarcastically. Instead he moved behind the lad and kneeling down, put a hand gently on his shoulder. Link jerked away with a slight hiss of pain.

"Will you leave me alone?" He pleaded.

"I'm sure alone is the best place for you," Killian responded.

"I think I can take care of myself."

"Yes, and a fine job you're doing so far."

Link pulled his knees up to his chin and stared through his bangs at the bed, facial muscles twitching in a state of alert weariness. Killian tried a different tactic.

"He came to relieve you from your suffering, not to prolong it. What would he think if he knew you tortured yourself for no reason?"

The young man sighed and hung his head, letting his shoulders sag. Finally he raised his head and stood stiffly, making his way over to the food tray and settling down beside it, eyeing the broth with distaste.

"Go on," the guard encouraged after several moments of hesitation. Reluctantly Link picked up the spoon and tasted the soup, swallowing thickly. A few bites later he set the spoon aside and simply sat, staring off into space.

Killian thought he had never seen a more anguished face. Drawn and lean, shadowed and bruised, eyes two unfathomable wells of pain and regret.

"Do you know who they call me?"

The question was sudden and unexpected.

"No."

Link turned his gaze towards the guard, piercing him with intensity.

"Who do you think I am?"

Killian shrugged.

"A young swordsman from Hyrule."

The youth nodded and looked away.

"You would be correct. But some seem to think I am the Hero of Time."

Killian gasped, eyes wide.

"_You're_ the Hero of Time?"

Link sighed.

"I thought you would respond so. It's a pity, really. I'm no more than what you first thought I was- a young swordsman from Hyrule. Now that you know, though, do you find me a pitiful sight for my title?"

"The boy who traveled back and forth through time, wielded the Master Sword, defeated Ganon the evil king! _You_ are him?"

"I guess that's a yes."

Killian dropped a knee and bowed low.

"My Lord," he said reverently, and almost instantly found himself being pulled to his feet.

"Please don't do that," Link asked in embarrassment. "It's really unnecessary. I'm no noble or prince."

"But sir, we owe you our allegiance!"

"Well, I'll…keep that in mind. See, I knew I shouldn't have told you, but I wondered if perhaps…if maybe you were different."

Overcoming his initial shock, Killian knelt beside the Hero, who had resumed his former place beside the bed.

"I apologize for upsetting you, my Lord…"

"Please, call me Link."

"…Link. But as I was saying, you need food, rest, and medicine. Will you not at least indulge me?"

"Ah!" Link threw up his hands in defeat. "Very well, have it your way."

He turned and strode promptly from the tent, indignantly irritated.

* * *

Killian decided he had given the young hero enough time. After an hour he should be asleep somewhere.

Once seeing his master watched by attendants, he went in search of his charge.

A few inquiries later found him peeking into a tiny dog tent to behold a small, blanket-covered lump. The hero was curled on his side, occasionally shuddering as though in the throes of a nightmare. Only a bright, unruly shock of blonde hair protruded above his covers. Altogether he gave a very good impression of a lost child, huddling against the cold loneliness of the world. Killian's heart twisted within him. A tiny whimper crawled from the boy's lips, so small and soft it was hardly audible.

"Help. Please help me."

The boy pleaded in his sleep, only a whisper but filled with such pain and longing it tore a tear from the man's eye.

"Please…I can't…Zelda…help me stop."

_'Stop what?'_ Killian almost wanted to wake him and ask, but instead spread another blanket over his shivering form. It wasn't cold outside, but as his hand grazed the boy's chin his skin felt icy to the touch. Link spoke no more, nevertheless Killian remained by his side until the stars had come and faded from the sky.

* * *

To be continued! (Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I do at least have the next one started. Thank you to all who have reviewed!) 


	8. Chapter 8

**The Fountain's Child**

By Frodo Silverlune

**Chapter 8

* * *

**

Cool, sweet, and hollow the last lonely notes of the Ocarina faded into soundless stone walls, and the child let the small instrument come away from his lips. Wide-eyed and cautious, the green clad figure needed wait no longer than a second before with a grinding groan the wall behind the altar split apart, opening before him beneath a resonating Triforce glowing gold.

Feeling the earth rumble beneath his feet, Link the boy tensed in readiness, but there was no need. It seemed his keys had only unlocked a door. What was so important it needed three magic stones and a sacred melody to reveal it? Curiosity itched at his feet. He moved forward, giving the altar a respectful berth as he climbed hallowed stairs.

A sword.

Passing through a short tunnel, the child beheld a high chamber, a single large window directly across from him allowing sunlight to fall upon a pedestal on a raised dias in the center of the room.

"Can it really be…the Master Sword?"

The child stood motionless as his fairy flew eagerly forward to investigate. He stared at the sword set in stone with awe. Surely as it stood now, half-buried, it was taller than he! Majesty and strength emanated from the flawless design: winged guard, notched blade. A weapon ruthlessly beautiful. Dare he touch it?

But how could he not? The Princess had seen it fit for him to enter here. She must have wanted him…no. It could not be possible.

_I'm only a boy from the forest,_ he thought. _Who am I to take this magic sword?_

Why did he feel compelled, urged, summoned? His feet seemed to move of their own accord, as though he was meant to stride forward into the ring of sunlight. Up close the sword lost some of its intimidation. Ever so cautiously, Link reached forward and laid a finger on the smooth pommel. The silver steel was liquid beneath his touch. He slid his hand down the grip, marveling at the seamlessness of the dark leather wrappings. Never had he beheld a weapon so fine. Was it stuck in the stone?

The boy climbed onto the pedestal and grasped the handle with both hands, jiggling the sword in its place. Loose.

Suddenly fear and warning shot through him, and he nearly fell on his behind as he jumped away as though stung. Instantly his vision clouded and images rushed behind his closed eyes.

_A bearded elder in orange and red…_

_A chestnut horse rearing against those who sought to restrain it…_

_Living skeletons knawing on victims…_

_And a blonde man dressed in green of the forest, indescribable pain in his eyes_.

Link's eyes snapped open and he realized he was clutching his forehead almost painfully. Trembling slightly, he released his hand and stared in alarm at the sword. The Master Sword.

'_I cannot take it.'_

'_You must.'_

'_I am not worthy.'_

'_You must take the blade.'_

'_Was the man…me? What will happen? What should I do?'_

Slumping down on the dias, the boy held his head in his hands. The vision had shaken him. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it. But events had been set in motion he could not prevent. He glanced back through the way he had come.

'_If I don't take the blade, someone else might.'_

'_Ganondorf…'_

'_If the Princess was trying to protect it she must mean to keep it from evil. At least I can do that, what I can.'_

With new resolve, Link stood and took a deep breath before once more mounting the swords' resting place. He took hold of the hilt.

"To save the Princess," he whispered under his breath, and with a glint and metallic ring drew the sword free.

It was surprisingly light in his hands, and when nothing happened for a second he breathed a sigh of relief.

But then the sunlight was blocked, he was thrown into darkness.

"Foolish boy!" Deep, guttural laughter rang throughout the cathedral.

'_What have I done?'_

Wind was swirling around him, pressing in on his mind.

"You have unlocked the last key to my power! Who could be more stupid than you?'

'_Idiot!'_

The mocking of evil pounded upon his heart, and it was there in the madness around him a seed was planted in his soul.

He hardly felt himself fall to his knees. Something was happening to him. He was splitting in two. The panic was unbearable.

"It's all your fault."

The words were the last he heard before time snatched him forward, back, forward, back, and with a final gasp for breath, the boy Link was no more.

* * *

Jolting from the nightmare with a frightened cry, the young man sat up in panic, promptly banging his head on the lantern hanging from the horizontal pole supporting the tent. His blue eyes widened in surprise as he realized he was being watched. He clutched the blankets to himself modestly, though fully clothed.

"What are you doing here?"

Killian pulled himself to his knees from sitting cross-legged in the triangular entrance to the tiny tent.

"Waiting for you to wake so I can assist you with your wounds."

It was the easiest explanation he could have provided. Still, disbelief and suspicion clouded Link's brow.

"Oh!" Killian brought out a gray woolen long-sleeved tunic. "This is for you, until yours are mended." He spat in distaste at the mercenaries' violence. Almost instantly he wished he hadn't. This boy was unpredictable and mistrustful. Even the slightest actions would be misunderstood, although how and why Killian had yet to discover.

"Come," he said, rising. "The day has begun and if we don't hurry breakfast will be devoured before you are seen to."

Link crawled cautiously out of his tent, being careful to avoid the pole, still wrapped in his blanket.

"You needn't help me…" he started to say, but his voice trailed off as he realized the guard had no intention of leaving. Bother! Why wouldn't people leave him alone? Better satisfy his wishes and be done with him.

The guard led him into a larger version of the triangle-tent, this tall enough to stand in. Guiding him to sit on the edge of a narrow cot- the only furniture- the man took a seat beside him and withdrew bandages, a bottle of salve, and soap from a box beside a basin of water near his feet. Mentally gritting his teeth, Link allowed the blanket to drop.

'_The sooner this is over, the better.'_

Killian gingerly peeled the tattered remains of the young man's bloodied clothing away from his back, exposing an angry web of raw whip-lashes. Dried blood and dirt, bits of grass stuck haphazardly between the open wounds. The robbers had been utterly unmerciful.

As carefully as possible he wet rags and sponged away the filth. Link made no sound even when soap stung his flesh, spine rigid as stone. Killian let out a slow whistle.

"At least I have a little something to help put out the fire."

The young man didn't respond.

The man finished lathering salve upon his back and turned his attention to the sword-wound on his arm. As soon as the guard had finished, Link stood and slipped the gray tunic over his head; he peeled off his ruined clothing whilst under the scratchy garment. It wouldn't do to have the man tend his _other_ wounds.

"Thank you," he said softly before slipping through the tent flaps and into the morning light. Now was his chance to slip away before the guard emerged to follow, but he almost groaned as debt compelled him to stay.

Hardly had he finished fuming over the situation when a loud wail rose from the Master's tent. Dread crashed upon him as though drenched from a bucket of ice water. The kind guard burst from the tent and thundered toward the sound. Link found himself following, each step piercing his limbs with agony.

'_No,'_ was the only coherent thought in the whirlpool of darkness surrounding him.

He was inside.

He knew instantly the Master was dead.

The guard had dropped to his knees and was weeping unashamedly, as were attendants. A sorrowful healer stood stone-faced in a corner of the room, hands working a towel into knots.

And the Master of White Mountain lay white and still under his coverlets. His eyes had been closed and he gave the appearance of deep sleep.

Pain.

Link turned and slipped through the tent flaps, still carrying his old green clothing. He stopped at his tent to grab his knife he had retrieved among his pilfered items, and left.

He did not need to go far, only high enough up the trail so he could not be seen from below.

Concealing himself behind a boulder off the trail he stripped off the gray tunic and replaced it with his former attire. He ripped the dagger out of its sheath and threw it far, away, out beyond the trail and down into space.

Link shut his mind against all feeling, all thought, all emotion. He had fallen into the void. His last thread of sanity had been clipped, and the horrible lethargy of utter black swept him away from the whims of the world. 'Lost the will to live,' it might have been called.

'_Lost…'_

Tears of pain and longing escaped from his eyes. There was no other answer.

He raised the knife to his breast, point above his heart. He knew exactly where to strike. After all, he was a trained killer. Had the sages known he would use the same talent to slay himself?

His hands shook, his mind whirled into panic. And then the blanket of his lost will drowned out all else. His muscles tensed, his brain commanded his arms to thrust, but suddenly a force smashed into his skull and he crumpled senseless into the dust, knife rolling from limp fingers.

* * *

To be continued. Thank you all who have reviewed! 


	9. Chapter 9

**The Fountain's Child**

by FrodoSilverlune : I don't claim to own Zelda or any characters, scenarios, etc. associated with Nintendo. Thank you for the reviews! Next chapter will be longer I hope.

**Chapter 9

* * *

**

Worn leather boot heels crunched and turned loose pebbles in the path as the man with his burden marched blindly down into camp. Two salty lines of tears streaked across his face as he tightened his hold on the fragile body he bore, feeling Link's heartbeat pulse mournfully through clothing. It fluttered weakly, reminiscent of a bird pinned down in a trap by one wing.

'_Suicide.'_

The word echoed hauntingly real in his ears.

_A boy with a dagger to his chest. _

A bearded white face still in death became young and smooth. Killian saw in his mind's eye the youth in his arms stretched cold beneath the sheets. No one would come to mourn for a suicide. He would be buried in a paupers' grave, or even burned. Forgotten. Erased.

Death made him think of life. Link existed, therefore he had been born. Somebody had wanted him. Oh, how terrible if he had no parents to love him! Suppose he had been unwanted? Maybe that was why he was so…desperate. But no, something had to have gone wrong. His body was too light for his size, underweight. A history of emotional torment existed here, but would the boy find the courage to heal?

* * *

Once again, Link didn't know what to do. Caught in an endless cycle; despair, desperation, and the only relief he could find torn from him every time by discovery. Why did they care? Why couldn't they leave him alone?

Escape had become impossible now, with eyes watching his every move. Since he had awaken in that persistent guards' bed he had been forced to live. No weapons, no medicines, no ropes or strings. And the worst part, never alone.

He didn't bother to look up as the guard entered the off-white canvas walls of the tent bearing food on a tray. He was too ashamed to merely glance in the direction of someone's eyes.

"Will you eat more this time?"

Link nodded once, mechanically lifting the spoon and brining the broth to his lips. The tasteless liquid scalded his throat, but he swallowed dutifully. Three, four, five, six…when could he stop? He would get fat if he ate any more. Grotesquely fat, with rolls of lard bulging out of his stomach and cascading down his sides, so large he couldn't see his feet looking down.

'_Please don't make me do this.'_

Ten, eleven…his throat constricted on twelve and he covered his mouth in panic. But the food stayed down.

'_Water…water won't hurt.'_

He sipped the water. It cooled the fire in his mouth, sliding down to fill his stomach with hollow weight. Out of the corner of his eye he knew the guard raise an eyebrow.

"Is that it? Can't you eat any more?"

'_I ate two more bites than this morning, and that's not enough?'_

"Link, I know you are hurting, but can you not at least speak to me?"

'_You kept me from dying. I would have been at peace if you hadn't hit me.'_

"It's been four days. You must stop this! Earn back our trust. You can live again."

'_Trust? Live? What hollow words.'_

The guard sighed.

"I don't know what else I can do for you. We have done our best. I sent word to the Princess you were in trouble three days ago. I know of no other friends or family we could have notified, since you won't tell us."

After the initial shock of hearing the Princess Zelda would be involved, Link expected to feel annoyance and shame. Instead he felt gingerly…what was it? Hopeful?

'_Ha! The Princess coming all this way, what a joke! You don't care, she's not going to come for you.'_

'_Why is the Princess of Hyrule always involved? Why don't I have any other less important friends, like Malon? Why are all my friends girls?'_

Well, it wouldn't do to have the Princess seeing him like this.

'_If she comes.'_

He would have to bend to their wishes all the more.

Link took the spoon and finished the broth.

* * *

The funeral for the Master of White Mountain was held in the village after the customary eight days of mourning. He was buried with his fathers in the stone vault carved deep underground centuries ago by the skilled stonemasons who had first settled the mountain. A trail of yellow petals lined the path of the pall bearers from his home to the steps leading beneath the earth and into torch-lit darkness.

Link buried himself in the hood of his cloak while the casket passed by through the crowd. Only tendrils of wind moved the stray hair around his stolid face. None would come near him. Occasionally he heard whispers of "…suicide!…" as people turned their face away. At last he had what he deserved. At last people saw him for what he really was…an outcast, a burden, a Nothing. His new reputation gave him an arrogant, haughty feeling, as though he could burn with a smile or freeze with a stare. People feared him. At last not for being a hero, but for the intriguing drama he had created. A dangerous mystery. He was dressed in black. He liked it.

Thus there was an empty space around him among the villagers, a social bubble. At last he knew what he would do. Once the Master was buried he would leave, never to return. And how would he spend his days?

He allowed a grim satisfaction to pass across his eyes. He knew where he would go. And it would be far, far away.

* * *

To be continued! 


	10. Chapter 10

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero'_

By FrodoSilverlune : I don't own Zelda. And thanks for the reviews. This chapter is a bit longer, not much, but chapter 11 will be.

**Chapter 10

* * *

**

"Link! What a surprise!"

Malon leaned her pitchfork against the stable wall and brushed her hair back behind her ear with a finger.

"Hello," he said.

"Have you come to visit? It's really no problem at all, I'd love you to stay for as long as you like."

"Thank you, but no, I haven't come to visit. My animals…how do you like them?"

"Oh," Malon smiled. "The cow is happy, and your cuckoos have made a nest behind the house in the trees. The cats are around here somewhere. Father has been happy to have a few mousers around."

"And I can see Epona is beautiful as ever. You've taken care of her like I promised." She reached up and stroked the mare's neck gently, murmuring quietly in her ear.

Link watched impassively as the two reunited in the wide open doorway. Sunlight was pouring into the space, illuminating countless dust mites in the air.

'_Floating like fairies…'_

"And how are you?"

"Fine."

"Why are you dressed in black? Did someone die?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Were they a friend of yours?"

"He saved my life."

"Oh…"

She was quiet for a while, until Link cleared his throat.

"I came concerning the animals I left here."

She sighed a little regretfully.

"I suppose you had to come back for them some time or another."

"Actually, I was wondering if you would consider keeping them."

Her green eyes widened in surprise.

"Why?"

"I'm going to be doing a bit of traveling, I don't know how long. And they deserve a loving home."

"So do you."

Her bluntness did not crack his façade, although her words struck pain deep in his chest.

"Yes well," he continued undaunted, "I was also going to give back Epona."

"Oh Link! No, you can't!"

He allowed her to see his surprise.

"Why not?"

"She loves you! She loves to travel. Cooping her up here on this ranch isn't good enough for her anymore."

"I'm sorry I made her that way."

She put a hand on his arm holding the mare's reigns.

"You didn't do anything wrong. She has a restless spirit. It would have emerged one way or the other."

"I can pay you if it's the expense you're worried about."

"Link."

She tried to find his eyes.

"Look at me."

She tried to raise his chin, but he moved away from her fingers.

"You lied to me."

This time he really was shocked.

"I did what? How?"

"You made me believe you were going to get better, but you're worse."

He couldn't deny the truth of her words. But he already knew what he would do. Run.

"I came here to return Epona, again. And here, here she is." He tried to hand Malon the reigns, but she wouldn't take them.

'_Very well.'_

He dropped the reigns and began to unfasten the buckles securing her bridle. He had already sold the saddle to a traveling merchant. Everything he needed was in a knapsack across his back or in the pouches of his belt. The bridle slipped off Epona's face and he patted her one last time.

"You're running away again." Malon looked at him with pain in her eyes. "How many times must you run away before you will learn you must face and fight your problems?"

"Fighting problems doesn't change who you are." He turned away. "Goodbye."

"You're only lying to yourself Link!" He heard her run up behind him as he walked briskly away. "You're never going to be happy until you accept the love people are willing to offer you."

"No, I never will."

"Fine! If you want to destroy your life and whine about how bad things are go ahead! But I never want to see you again until you will talk to me. It's a good thing you left Epona here! She might decide to end it all just to get away from you!"

'_I know.'_

"And she's a horse!"

He felt horrible. Absolutely sick. With every step he took dread and weight, the words Malon had spoken vibrated in his heart. But each time they hit, the callous only grew larger. He began not to care.

And soon he found he had passed through the gates of the ranch into the fields beyond.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' By FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't friggin own Zelda. Oh, and thank you to all my reviewers. This chapter is longer and at last we see some action. (And non-angst, maybe, but things are going to get better.)

**Chapter 11

* * *

**

The green-gold leaves of a pleasant forest fluttered softly against a gentle breeze, stirring the shadows falling on the soft brown floor of the tiny trail. To the casual glance a path might not be detectable, but the green and gray-clad men trotting soundlessly along single file knew this way by heart and would not stray on the darkest of nights.

Of course if their blindfolded prisoner was as sure of his footing as they were, he wouldn't be making as much noise, but considering his undesirable circumstance his captors excused his heavy breathing and shuffling steps. At least they were almost to their destination.

The secret path led the party eventually to run alongside a sizable stream. Heading upriver by mid-afternoon the outlaws had come to a beautiful white waterfall and subsequent shining gray pool set in the bosom of brilliant green undergrowth, but they did not stop to admire the scenery. Coming to the mist-shrouded base of the pounding falls, twice the height of a man, their captain pushed aside a dark curtain of wide-leafed ivy and held it while his men filed into the secret entrance as quickly as they had come. After making sure they were not being followed, the captain, a dark-haired bearded man with intense green eyes passed inside.

Leading their way through a passage carved into the earth and supported with wooden beams at intervals a torchbearer set a quick pace along the uphill incline. Neatly trimmed roots twirled their shadows around as the light passed, pointing gnarled fingers at the forbidden presence of top-soil dwellers underground.

Suddenly they stopped and the leader knocked a password upon a wooden door at the end of the tunnel. A response was heard and the door swung open. A wall of light struck the prisoner full on the face and he responded to his senses, drinking in the spicy orange glow of the setting sun.

Voices the prisoner heard around him, the chatter, iron clanging, wood-chopping, laughter of a busy camp in the midst of supper preparation. He got the distinct notion he was in the bandit's layer. Was he to be presented to the chief as he had appealed? The young man's thoughts went to his loyal guards left tied to trees where they had been ambushed, and the horses scattered in the woods. Doubtless they had been rounded up hours ago by the remaining attackers. Apparently the outlaws were much more organized than he had previously thought.

"Stop! We're here." The bandit who had been guiding him by the elbow grabbed him tightly.

"Will you let me see now?"

"Heh," the man grunted, but nevertheless pulled the black cloth from his eyes.

The prisoner found himself standing in a strange place. It was indeed a camp, but he had never before seen one like it. He was standing in a grove of trees. Small houses had been made by growing sapling so close the trunks had fused together. The same technique was true for any solid wall in the arena. Sod grew on the roofs of the houses, how it got up there he didn't know. And not only men, but women and children as well went busily about their tasks, hardly paying him any attention. Fires, he noticed, were contained in designated stone pits, and a bubbling spring, the source of the waterfall, provided the purest water in the woods.

"The chief will see you now."

A butterfly of anxiety erupted in his stomach, but he was brave. He stepped forward boldly and with confidence now that he had regained the use of his eyes. He walked up the grass steps of the largest building and passed through the arched doorway.

The captive found himself in a pleasant room. It was large but not daunting, clearly meant for large groups of people. Fine straw mats covered the floor but the fireplace hearth was white flagstone. Weapons lined the trunk-walls, as much for decoration as for deadly use. And he saw the chief.

His eyes opened in surprise. Why, he didn't look much older than himself! The chief was a young man, perhaps in his twenties, dressed in black from the strange pointed cap on his head to ebony leather boots. The shining silver brooch fastening his full cape, the square metal belt buckle around a mid-thigh tunic, and the studs on his arm bracers glinted sharply against his mysterious garb. But his blonde hair and crystal blue eyes as he studied the prisoner kept one from forming a sinister opinion. He looked like a figure out of legend.

"My captain informs me you appealed to the Chief in an ambush," he said. His voice was low and controlled as he stood with his arms crossed on his chest and feet apart. "I am the Chief. Speak, but do not lie."

The captive cleared his throat.

"My name is Perean of the Family Corsaron. I was traveling with my company through these woods when your men ambushed my party, overwhelmed my guards and drove my horses into the woods. We were provoking nothing and no one, we are not carrying a large fortune, merely delivering livestock to a neighboring lord. I demand the return of my father's property and repercussion for the delay you have inflicted on us."

"To whom are you delivering the horses?"

"To the man who calls himself the Prince of Xansarai."

"I was under the impression this lord has no further need of steeds."

"Not in his opinion. It was an unfortunate loss in the Tournament when our knight was struck down, but my father is a man of his word, and he will pay his debts though our table is a bit lean this winter."

The captain's eyes grew lost in thought for a moment.

"I know your family and their history of honor," the Chief said. "You are the second-eldest son, accomplished in your training and respected throughout Hyrule. I also remember this Xansarai has a reputation for cheating."

"So you will let us go?"

The Chief held up a half-gloved hand.

"I will think on it and speak with the others. Your horses are safe. Your companions are on their way. You will stay here tonight."

Perean bowed.

"Thank you."

"Mind I can promise nothing but a meal and a bed. None of my men will harm you, you have my word." The Chief nodded to the guards and the young nobleman was lead from the building.

* * *

"Who is he?" Perean questioned the woman serving the evening meal to him and his companions in a small hut surrounded by guards.

"Who young master?" She was middle-aged, tough brown skin knit tightly across her face and thin brown hair refusing to stay combed into place.

"Your chief. He's so young."

"No one knows his age, nor where in Hyrule he calls his birthplace." She took an iron kettle from the fire and set it on its three legs in the center of the table.

"Does he have a name?"

"His name is Kiln. We call him Chief, as will you."

"Why is he your chief if he is so mysterious?"

The woman glared at him sternly.

"He earned every ounce of respect he's given, young master. Never has he given us a reason to mistrust him. He's wise and just for his age, and I doubt you could beat him in martial combat."

Perean ladled soup into his bowl as he spoke evenly.

"I should like to judge such for myself."

"Ha!" Her leather voice barked loudly her opinion. "Try to fight him then, if he'll consent. The only time I ever saw him fight was to prove his skill before becoming our leader. He bested two of our champions at once with only a broadsword, and can split a two-inch willow wand at a hundred yards!"

"Truly? He's been newly appointed, then."

"I might say that. It's been…seven, eight months? But don't think he didn't work for it. He's been here three years and we owe our prosperity to his dedication."

The young man had had enough hero-worship.

"You seem to think very highly of him, ma'am, and with conviction. But what honor can come from a thief?"

The woman's gray eyes blazed in storm.

"Enough you could learn a lesson from, nobleman. Throwing your family's fortune away on _games_. You deserve a little humiliation!"

Perean stood with a loud scrape as his chair was pushed backwards by his hurt pride.

"You insult me, woman! Take care to curb your tongue!"

"What's this?"

All heads snapped to the doorway where the very subject of their conversation had appeared soundlessly. The Chief's icy gaze summed up the situation in a heartbeat.

"You've created a wonderful meal, Lady Reima. Thank you for lending your services to our guests."

"There's plenty more, Chief. I made it without meat, as you like."

He bowed to the hostess.

"I'm honored to accept. Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind I should consider myself blessed if you would permit my company as you finish your supper."

Perean nodded, watching the leader intently.

"Of course."

He resumed his seat after the Chief had settled himself to his right at the table's end. Lady Reima served him herself, adding a loaf of bread and scoop of butter to the broth, cheese, and succulent fowl already set before the company.

A few moments passed in silence as the travel-hungry men resumed their interrupted meal. The young nobleman noticed the Chief's bowl hardly diminish in volume.

"Sir Perean," the Chief cleared his throat. "You mentioned having lost the horses in a tournament. Might I ask the date of the battle?"

Perean swallowed his food and answered casually.

"Not two days ago. My father is honest and punctual in his payments."

"I see. And the tournament, it is still in continuance?"

"Yes, in truth it only started. Our knight was yet in the preliminary competition when he was struck down by Xansarai's using a false-tipped lance. The hollow shell broke upon impact and the steel tip penetrated the armor. When I left it was doubtful our Knight would survive."

The Chief grunted in acknowledgement, and Perean saw a glint of anger flash across his hard eyes. When he spoke it was slow and careful.

"This tournament, how long will it last?"

"Throughout this week and into the next: the final competitions are set for next Saturday."

"Does your family support any knights other than the one you mentioned?"

Perean shook his head.

"For jousting we have none other, although our crest is displayed among the archers and hand combatants, among other things."

He paused, but felt comfortable enough to add

"Our family, though small in holdings and power, holds a fair opinion among the games."

The Chief took a swallow from a cup of water.

"One more question, and I shall pester you no more."

Perean nodded.

"Where is this tournament being held?"

"Why, where else for the grandest event of the year but in the fields before Hyrule Town? The Royal family has hosted this event consecutively for 234 years."

"I see."

The Chief planted his hands on the table and stood, replacing his chair quietly.

"Thank you, young sir! I go now to reveal an idea to our elders. May you sleep well."

Perean stood and bowed in return to the Chief's courtesy and watched his cloak slide soundlessly out the door. He hadn't seemed like the typical leader of a band of renegades. He smiled as he finished his supper. Given different circumstances Perean thought they might have become friends.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	12. Chapter 12

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' By FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. Thanks, as always, to my reviewers!

**Chapter 12

* * *

**

"He's got another one of those ideas of his," muttered Bergeron the Captain to his nephew, who nodded as they took their seats in the Lodge after suppertime had passed. The Chief had called a meeting of the elders, undoubtedly to take counsel about the nobleman and his horses. Now, before a roaring fire in the stone heart, a ring of seats hosting the called men and two women waited patiently for Kiln to speak.

He waited until all had arrived before opening his mouth. A black fluffy housecat had curled up on his lap, thus rather than disturb the purring creature the Chief remained seated.

"I'm certain you know why I've requested a meeting. Nevertheless, I will explain. This morning our Captain captured quite a prize: six riding mounts and two battle steeds. As usual we would have sold them, however, given the circumstances surrounding those we have stolen from, I have another idea."

He paused, eyes distantly focused on a corner of the floor mats.

"As in the past, this would be quite a daring and bold adventure, but should it succeed it would not endanger the band nor reveal our secrecy. I would like to enter this tournament, win back the horses _and_ their worth in gold."

A shocked wave rippled across the listeners. Kiln held up a hand from stroking the cat.

"Should I succeed, the reward is 8,000 rupees. We could return the horses to their owners and still keep four times what we would have made otherwise."

"And if you loose?"

Captain Bergeron drilled the Chief with gray eyes set against a red bearded face.

"I would take the proper measures to ensure this band is not without a leader."

"This is madness!"

Lady Allon stood quickly, finely woven burgundy robes falling around her youthful figure, though she had born five children and was past her prime.

"This company will not allow you to recklessly endanger your life for the sake of money! We have the horses, is that not enough? What is your real motive behind this foolishness?"

The cat hopped nimbly from the Chief's lap and disappeared from the circle.

"I will take one other with me to act as my squire," Kiln said. "The Lord Perean will introduce me to his father, I will take the place of their wounded knight. I would compete under the Corsaron standard, defeat Xansari and claim the prize. If I am wounded or worse, the squire will return as we came, sell the horses, and we would be the same as we would have been otherwise."

"Missing one Chief," Lady Allon pointed out. "What would happen to you once they discover who you are?"

The Chief's eyes snapped to attention.

"I would not betray the band," he said firmly.

"Yes, but you would be captured, and you know the penalty for thieves!"

He sighed.

"You know I am a thief, Lord Perean knows, but the castle guards and magistrates do not."

"Are you saying…"

"I am known to them beneath a different title. I doubt they would find me capable of the accusations."

"_What do you say?"_ The Captain leapt to his feet, glaring at the Chief. "Are you a spy sent here to ferret out our secrets? Who are you? Why have you lied to us?"

Now was the Chief's turn to stand, eyes flashing.

"I am Kiln, a swordsman from Hyrule. I am not a spy or a soldier. I take on disguises, that is all."

"And how do we know you are not in hiding now? If you are as innocent as you claim with the law, why are you now a thief?"

"Every man has his reasons for the choices he makes, Captain," Kiln said evenly. "I would prefer to keep mine personal, as you would yours."

He turned to the assembly, straightening his posture and crossing his arms.

"But test me, then, and find if my loyalty does not lie with the Nadai. If I win and do not return, I am a traitor. You would be free to exact your revenge. Yet know this: I fight for you and with you. If I have ever given you reason to mistrust me, deny me the tournament!"

The silence of the room was only broken by a log snapping in the fireplace, sending a shower of orange sparks flying up the chimney. The Chief made an impressive figure, standing boldly in front of the fire, black, muscled figure outlined in the golden glow behind. He had shed his cloak, yet his obvious youth gave no cause for doubt in his martial confidence. Challenge bored from his eyes, blue almost black in shadow.

None stepped forward to answer him.

After a long while he nodded.

"I have already chosen my successor."

He turned to the flustered Captain.

"Bergeron, I have decided you shall be tried to take my place should I fail. Is this agreeable?"

Heads nodded around the circle.

"Tendor." Captain Bergeron's cousin snapped to attention. "You shall be my squire."

"Yes sir."

"Very well. I have no more to say."

One by one the elders left the room until only the Chief remained, standing as he had been before the fireplace, lost in thought.

'_Will they recognize me? It's only been three years. But if I win, I'll have to show my face, and She will see…'_

'_If you win.' _

'_And what if I don't?'_

'_Then I will be justly punished for my crimes.'_

He smiled faintly. She would have never guessed he would end this way. But maybe, if he could give back the horses, he could atone somehow for how far he had fallen.

Link looked around the darkening room. If things went according to his wishes, he may never have to see this place again.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	13. Chapter 13

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' By Frodo Silverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. Thank you to everyone for reviewing!

**Chapter 13

* * *

**

For the twenty-sixth time since setting out at dawn, Perean sighed.

'_A thief, hmph.'_

He glared for the eleventh time at the cloaked back of Chief Kiln riding in front of him. Although his initial anger had dulled somewhat, a seething pool of vexation boiled now in his belly. He lost no opportunity to show the Chief his wrath.

'_Forcing me to accept his help! He's lower than a commoner, the scoundrel!'_

But there were only so many times he could say so in his head before he knew he was reaching a loss of self-control. He was a nobleman, after all, at least _he_ would act with honor.

The party, Perean and his guards plus the Chief and his 'squire,' had been traveling at a brisk pace all day, trotting when the woods permitted, wasting no daylight. Perean stood in his stirrups, stretching his leg muscles and twisting his torso before settling back into the curved leather saddle. At least the band of renegades had returned their supplies; only the prize horses remained in the thieves' clutches.

'_He's so certain he can win, well, he hasn't seen the competitors!' _

Long black shadows paved their footsteps as the sun sank lower in the sky, when suddenly they came out of the forest.

Hyrule's vast farmland stretched before them, copper colored in the dying rays of sunset. Gray mountains lined the distant horizon before them to the east, while in the north the Great Range bathed its face in golden light.

Perean had come abreast with the Chief, and despite himself he stole a glance from the corner of his eye. To his surprise, the Chief was surveying the countryside with an expression of peace, as though returning to his native land from a long exile. Invisible muscles seemed to relax one by one in his previously hardened face.

'_I wonder what my sister would think of him?'_

The thought surprised the young man. He allowed a few iron rods or resentment melt away in his heart.

"You once called this land your home," he commented as the group moved forward down into the valley.

"Yes," the Chief answered simply. Perean decided not to press the matter further. Yet, since the man seemed so ready to help him, maybe, perhaps he wasn't all bad.

"What would you like me to call you?"

Perean started in surprise.

"I was about to ask you the same question!"

"Really?"

He nodded, and a tiny smirk of amusement tickled the corner of the Chief's lips.

"Well, in answer to your question, you may address me as Kiln."

"And you may call me Perean."

Kiln turned in his saddle and bowed.

"At your service and your family's, my Lord."

Perean surprised himself once again by chuckling, but almost instantly sobered, realizing the full implication of Kiln's offer.

* * *

"Chief!" Tendor could not help staring when Kiln appeared early in the morning, arms laden with saddle bags. The leader merely glanced his way, noting his squire's surprise with seeming expectation.

Kiln, whom none of the band had ever seen wearing anything but solid black, was dressed in green over white. All accessories: boots, belt, bracers, fingerless gloves, all were of a worn brown leather, apparently having seen much use. He seemed to be a different person. The only sign of his connection to the band was his black cloak against the morning chill.

However the chief said nothing about the change, leaving Tendor to wonder ever the more.

'_Who_ is_ this man?'_

"Sir Perean?"

The young nobleman looked up from rolling his bed.

"Mmhmm?"

Kiln pulled tight a buckle on his horses' tack as he answered.

"I need to gather a few items. Who would you like me to bring along?"

Perean tied a leather thong around the blanket.

"What do you need to get, and where?"

"Oh, just a few precautionary measures to aide the competition."

Perean's eyes shifted mistrustfully, thinking. Finally he turned to one of his guards.

"You will continue in the course towards the Tournament fields while I accompany the Chief on his errands."

The guard nodded. Perean fastened the last of his possessions onto his saddle and mounted gracefully. Kiln nodded to Tendor.

"We'll catch up with you around mid-day," he said as he swung himself up.

The two horsemen kicked their steeds into a gallop and thundered away, leaving naught but a cloud of dust behind in the morning dew.

* * *

"Where exactly are we going?"

Perean trotted even with the Chief, trying once more to pry the location of their destination from such a quiet man.

"We're almost there."

"Oh! I was so afraid you were going to say 'you'll see' again." He twisted around, trying to spy any change across the tree-dotted landscape. "It isn't too far, is it?"

"Not if we're almost there."

"Of course. I was only wondering how you must captivate your bands' attention with your lively conversation."

"If I had anything intelligent to say, I would speak."

Perean had once got into trouble as a lad poking a sleeping sow until it charged and broke through the pen. His curiosity and taste for jest had not gone away over the years.

"I wonder which tree we're going to stop at?" He said aloud, trying his best to be annoying. "Is it that tall aspen over there? Or perhaps that fat oak surrounded by all the baby oaks. That reminds me of an aunt I once had who loved little children. She was always giving them treats and pinching their cheeks, and looked like that tree. Have you had any fat aunts?"

"No."

"Good. You're lucky. I have seven. Well, actually they're not all first aunts. Some of them are twice removed or cousins of my mother's, say, is that the one?"

"Actually, yes."

Kiln pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted. Perean watched from the saddle as he took something small from a pouch on his belt, snapped something off it, and tossed it to the base of the tree.

"Cover your ears," he said, holding onto his horses' head.

"What?"

Suddenly an explosion rocked the earth. Perean was thrown from his horse as it reared in surprise, and he landed dazed on the grass. When he had recovered enough to sit up, ears ringing, he found Kiln murmuring soft words into the horses' ears as he sought to calm them down.

He rose to his feet, limbs trembling, and blinked.

There in the earth at the base of the tree was a black hole. He looked at Kiln, and back at the hole. At Kiln, at the hole.

"How did you…what…how…?"

Kiln couldn't suppress a grin as he walked over to the hole he had exposed.

"If you think _this_ is amazing…" he shook his head. "Hylians really have no idea what secrets are hidden beyond their backdoor. You should see some of the things I've found."

And with that he stepped forward and disappeared.

Perean gave a cry and scrambled forward to peer into the ground.

"Hello!" He cried. "Kiln?"

"I'm fine, come on down yourself." Perean couldn't see Kiln's face, but his voice rang loud and clear up out of the earth. He couldn't repress his curiosity. He stood, and taking a deep breath, shut his eyes and stepped into nothingness.

His heart caught in his throat for an instant as he fell, but suddenly he slowed. A light appeared around him and gently set him down on a shining pedestal.

"See?" Kiln was still grinning at him, white teeth flashing. "It didn't hurt."

Perean took a cautious step forward, taking in his surroundings with awe. He was in an underground cave, complete with mossy walls, pools of water, and even plants. Light came from somewhere, not only the column now illuminated with sparks rising to disappear above them.

"Is that how we get out?"

Kiln nodded. His grin had disappeared yet his eyes were still smiling. He seemed to be laughing at him.

"Well, Mister, what are you down here for?"

Kiln drew his sword from over his shoulder, but Perean didn't think he meant to use it on him. He simply swung it at a bush close to the ground, cleaving the long leaves from the stalk. To Perean's surprise, a glowing pink fairy appeared, twittering angrily at the disturbance. Before he had much time to marvel, however, Kiln had caught it in a bottle.

"Where did you get that?" He asked in surprise as the swordsman corked the fairy in with a squeak.

"This bottle? Um, I…" he thought hard for a moment. "I think this is the one I got for…wait…no…" he held it up to the light, examining the glass as the fairy thumped pitifully against its prison. "Ah! This bottle is the newer one. I got it for slaying ten Big Poes."

"_Ten!_ Big _Poes_!"

Kiln nodded as he cut another bush. This time a single green rupee fell to the sandy floor, and a couple bugs skittered away in shock. The man pocketed the gem and ignored the insects.

"Well, that's it. There's no more." He headed towards the light. "You can go first."

Perean followed numbly, mind still churning over the enemies this man had slain. He stepped onto the pedestal and immediately felt himself lifted, weightless, until he shot out of the hole and tumbled outside once more on the grass. Hardly had he dusted off his hands when Kiln appeared beside him, landing gracefully in a crouch. Obviously he found popping in and out of secret caves quite ordinary.

They caught the reigns of the gazing horses and once more were off, this time cantering in a different direction.

"What do you need a fairy for?" Perean shouted, trying to catch up.

"In case I run out of energy."

"Does the fairy restore it?"

"Yes, but not magic. I would need a Blue Potion if I wanted to restore both health and magic. Believe me, I do not want to take another blue potion. The red and green ones are awful enough, but the blue…" He made a face of disgust. "I didn't know what that lady puts in it back then, and I sure don't want to find out now."

"Back when?"

Kiln paused.

"When I bought the blue potion."

"Why did you need it?"

"For when I ran out of energy and magic."

Perean rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. To run out of energy you have to be wounded, to be wounded you have to have fought. To have fought…"

"I was traveling, you never know what might happen."

"You were _traveling_ and just happened to find a _Blue_ potion."

"It really wasn't that hard, all you have to do is ask 'where do I find a potion that restores magic and health?' in a potion shop."

"Kakariko! _Now_ we're getting somewhere!"

"Yes we are. There's Lon Lon Ranch."

Perean looked ahead and saw in the distance a square-ish brown structure.

"You know Talon? The famous horse breeder?"

"Yes, I suppose so. But actually it's his daughter, Malon, that breeds most of the horses."

"I see. And are we here to get a horse?"

"Yes."

The pair rode in silence until they reached the ranch gates. Not a soul hindered their passage through the log walls or past the house and barn. Coming into an enclosed field Perean beheld a grand paddock stocked with magnificent mares.

A couple stable boys stopped what they were doing to watch the newcomers. One, a tall red-headed lad, came up to them dusting his hands on a handkerchief. He bowed low.

"How may I be of service to you, my Lords?"

Kiln dismounted.

"Do I have the pleasure of finally meeting Willon, cousin of Malon?"

The boy looked up in surprise.

"Why, yes, yes sir."

Kiln bowed in greeting.

"I've come to see Malon, is she here?"

Willon nodded.

"Whom am I introducing?"

"A friend."

The boy bowed once more and ran off. As they waited, Kiln took the opportunity to quietly request

"Perean, if you wouldn't mind, I should like to speak with Malon in private."

Perean raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"It has nothing to do with our agreement," Kiln said quickly. "It's…personal business."

"Oh really?" Perean smiled. "I understand."

"No!" Kiln turned on him, eyes flashing yet cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. "She's not…we're not sweethearts."

"Oh!"

Both young men's heads snapped towards the sound of a cry.

"I _told_ you! I _told_ you not to come back!"

A pretty young woman with startlingly red hair marched towards them angrily.

"You fiend, you always disappear and turn up again when I'm not expecting you! Don't you _dare_ think I'm not angry anymore, because I am!"

Malon of Lon-Lon Ranch planted herself in front of Kiln, tossing her head back. Perean couldn't help but discredit Kiln's denial.

"Malon, may I present Lord Perean of the Corsorans. Lord Perean, may I present Malon."

The two bowed and curtsied in turn, murmuring 'pleasure to meet you,' and 'at your service my lord.' Kiln nudged Perean and cleared his throat. The young nobleman clapped the Chief on the shoulder.

"I wish you luck," he said, and strode off grinning to look at the horses.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	14. Chapter 14

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' by Frodo Silverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, scenarios, etc. in Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda series. I do own, however, a very nice pair of shoes, some clothes, and this lovely laptop to write on. Oh yes, and all these original characters I have to think up clever names for.

**Chapter 14

* * *

**

Malon waited until the Lord Perean was out of earshot before hissing.

"I told you not to come back until you're ready to talk, Link," she said glaring. "It's been three years. _Three_ years! Don't you know everybody's been worried sick? Did you think the Princess wouldn't search the entire land for you, because she cares? You hurt her deep, Link, really deep. And for what? All you care about is keeping your little secrets. Where have you been? What do you want?"

Link was expecting no less, still, he hoped Malon couldn't see him cringe.

'_Better get this over with.'_

"You can probably guess who I came for."

"Epona!" Her voice rose with incredulous disbelief. "You thought after leaving the way you did that you could simply come back and borrow her again?"

"I need her for something."

"What is it this time?" He saw her glance at the animals behind him. "You already have a horse."

"Well yes, but I need a horse I know, and who knows me."

"You didn't answer my question."

Link sighed.

"I'm going to be in a tournament, and I need a horse."

"A tournament."

He nodded.

"After three years you're going to show up at a tournament."

"I didn't plan it this way, it just happened."

Malon crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly.

"Give me one good reason I should lend her to you."

Link was beginning to get irritated.

"Because if you don't lend her to me now, I'll take her, and you won't know when she's coming back."

"Ohhh," Malon's eyebrows rose. "So big bad Mr. Hero's going to steal my horse, is he? And this guy calls himself my friend? Some friend, a thief. Is that what you learned all these years, how to steal from your friends?"

"Well I have learned a good deal about stealing in general," he said hotly. "But I haven't had to steal from anyone I know yet. I think it's going to be easy."

Crack!

Link froze, cheek stinging from the force of Malon's strike.

"Stop it, Link, stop it this instant," she said, stamping her foot. "You're not like that. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Everything's wrong. I'm wrong. I know. But it's funny how every time I realize that, it gets just a little easier to forget."

Malon shook her head, biting her lip. She turned away, eyes distant for a silent moment before exhaling loudly.

"Link, I'm sorry," she said, her voice softer. "I'm still angry at you, or actually, at what you're doing. How can you live like this? You're so hard, why did you allow yourself to get so calloused?"

"Maybe it was when that guard hit me with a rock."

"You don't mean that!"

"Yes, Malon, maybe I do!" He turned away, boiling. "I only wish everyone would leave me alone."

"It's funny how you lie to yourself like that. Do you really think your pain will go away if you only lock it down tighter?"

Link sighed, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to regain self control.

"Malon, I need the horse."

"I'm not giving her to you."

"I'll take her," he threatened.

"No you're not. If you're so desperate to have her, you'll have to take me too."

* * *

In the distance Tendor spotted three riders approaching their column, galloping before a trail of dust. 

"Guards! They come!"

The company turned as one to look behind them and pulled their horses to a halt, shading their eyes as they surveyed the gray figures. As they got closer the details grew more distinguishable. One guards' mouth dropped open in surprise.

"A lady?"

"Ha! I was right! Pay up!" Another guard held out his hand triumphantly to a companion.

"But you don't know if she's _his_ lady yet," the looser of the bet argued. "That's what you said, remember?"

"She will be, so you better have your money ready."

"We'll see."

By now Perean, the Chief, and their female companion had arrived. A red-haired lady sat astride a beautiful chestnut horse, stroking the mare's white mane as they stopped. Kiln cleared his throat.

"This is the Lady Malon of Lon-Lon Ranch," he introduced, "who insisted on accompanying her horse Epona which I plan on using in the tournament."

"I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself, 'Kiln,'" she said. "Oh, and by the way, now that I've met all of you, I might as well tell you his real name is Link…"

"Malon!"

"…and he's the…"

"That's _enough_!"

"Very well, Link, if you insist. I won't tell them all of who you are, but really, they do have a right to know."

"You promised."

"Yes, and so did you."

Pushing through the staring Hylians, Link used the silence of the stunned company to urge his horse forward.

"We can reach the town by nightfall if we don't delay," he said, looking straight ahead. Automatically the travelers continued on their journey, though Link could almost feel the stares physically bore into his back.

The only sound for a long while was the jingle and heavy thud of the burdened horses. Perean was the first to confront him.

"Clever really, how you rearranged the letters of your real name for a false one."

Link's gaze remained focused on the road, neither denying nor affirming the claim. Perean was convinced now of Malon's honesty.

"I should turn you in."

"For what?" Malon asked. Shewas beginning to feel a bit sorry. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so harsh.

"For leading a band of murderers and thieves," Perean accused. She gasped.

"Is this true, Link?"

"Not entirely. I never allowed anyone to murder."

Malon could hardly believe what she was hearing. Perean smirked as she stared at Link incredulously.

"You became a _thief_?"

"It was either that or be killed, slowly. Joining their band was the only escape from being roasted alive."

Perean wanted to spit in disgust.

"I decided to give you a chance, to trust you!"

Link sighed.

"You have seven on your side, I am alone. If you want to turn me in, I won't stop you."

Perean gritted his teeth to keep from shouting his frustration. Instead, he spoke quietly and with great control.

"You will fight this tournament. If you win I will not pursue justice, but if you loose..."

The young chief didn't say a word.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	15. Chapter 15

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: Me no own Legend of Zelda. Thanks as always to reviewers.

**Chapter 15

* * *

**

Amid a boiling sea of dust, sweat, and the roaring of spectators, two knights glared solemnly at each other through the narrow slits in their visors. On opposite sides of the arena, they stood poised on either side of a long fence, lances shifting, horses stamping impatiently. And suddenly, a steward flashed his flag down through the air and the knights kicked their horses into motion.

For two seconds the armored horsemen rushed madly toward each other. And the lances came down, and the knights met with a resounding crash. Unfaltering the mighty war horses continued forward, now moving away from each other, but one of the warriors flopped forward in his saddle, bouncing limply with the rhythm of his mounts' gait. The victorious combatant reached the end of the list and pulled his horse around, throwing his splintered lance to the ground and taking a new one handed from the rack by his blue-clad page. He did not respond to the wild cheering in the wooden stands, focusing instead on beating his foe.

Again the two knight rushed at each other and again the warrior bearing the azure standard of Corsaron prevailed. The crowd was going wild.

In the royal booth, Princess Zelda leaned toward her companion.

"I thought the Corsaron knight was defeated in the first round, Tylar."

The visiting Prince of Terminia smiled at her, green eyes softening with mirth.

"He was, Princess. This new knight appeared just yesterday, but I haven't heard how. Perhaps the family was waiting for a dramatic moment to display their true champion."

Crimson bunting fluttered in a slight breeze as the Princess fanned herself with a cream colored folding fan. She could feel sweat trickling down the small of her back. Imagine what those poor men must be suffering in all their layers of armor!

She flinched in anticipation as the knights rushed at each other for their third and final pass, and gasped along with the crowd as the red knight flew backwards off his saddle, flipping in the air and landing heavily on his shoulders.

"Oh! Tylar, is he dead?"

The Prince laughed, but it was not at the fate of the unhorsed warrior, whose attendants now rushed to remove his heaviest armor and place him on a stretcher.

"No, he's not dead. Corsaron only caught the bottom of his shoulder plate and plucked him off neatly as you please. Nice trick, I say. I wonder where he learned it."

Zelda stood and stretched as the two finalists prepared themselves for the last run of the tournament.

"Well whoever he is, he's rather talented," she commented to the Prince. "But he hasn't faced Xansarai." She frowned and resumed her seat, arranging her light blue skirt around her throne out of habit as the announcer stepped into the arena.

"Lords and ladies, long have we awaited this moment! For the final match, the two remaining contestants will match each other as the Fates allow! For the Championship, I present Lord Xansarai!"

Loud cheers erupted from the stands, whistles and hoots as the orange-and-black standard of the Xansarai family unfolded on the opposite side of the arena and the Lord himself came cantering before the people, standing in his saddle with a confident fist pumping the air. His brilliant orange plume swept his helmet and shoulders as he circled the enclosure, black armor matching the grace of his beautiful sable stallion. Through his open face shield a proud, suntanned face smiled dashingly at his admirers, confident in his ability to win.

"And facing the Lord Xansarai, the Corsaron Knight!"

If great the applause had been for the first contestant, thunderous was the support from the stands as the blue knight came riding forth. Mounted on a chestnut mare with white mane and tail, this silver-armored knight simply raised a hand in modest recognition of his fans. His face was concealed by the visor and the only sign of his identity was the blue and white banners his horse wore.

Zelda gasped.

No…it couldn't be. Why hadn't she noticed before?

"And now, to decide how these knights will compete, we shall cast the stones!"

The herald's voice was almost lost amid the clamor of the onlookers. An official bearing a cylindrical tube and an assistant with a table stepped between the two knights. The crowd held its breath as the scarlet-robed official shook the tube high above his head and emptied it with a flourish on the table before him. Three cubes rolled onto the wooden surface and as one the audience leaned forward. The official glanced at the cubes and raised his voice.

"The contest shall be decided with the sword!"

The Princess could not shake off a horrible feeling. After three years? Could it possibly be?

To the fencing ring strode the two knights, their horses having been led away by their squires in exchange for swords. Xansarai had chosen a long two-handed blade, which he spun about his body amid cheers of approval. Corsaron had selected a one-handed sword and a small shield.

The two knights began circling each other in the ring.

'_No…'_

Zelda wiped her cold temple with her handkerchief. Tylar glanced at her in concern, but she waved him off with a small smile.

Xansarai was the first to advance. Corsaron parried and stepped neatly aside, yet did not press his opponent. Three, four, more times Xansarai tried to provoke him, yet his foe would not attack. Finally, out of frustration the black knight charged. Corsaron caught his blade and the two struggled for control. Eventually the two broke apart and began circling again.

It happened so fast Zelda did not see exactly what happened, even from her advantageous viewpoint. Somehow Corsaron had retaliated with such a strike as to shear the forearm guard from Xansarai's right hand. This action seemed to enrage the black knight, for he spun and brought his sword in a diagonal sweep over his back and down the side. Corsaron merely flicked it out of the way and rapped the knight on the chest with the flat of his blade.

"He's playing with him!"

Tylar was leaning forward, completely enraptured in the battle.

"Corsaron's teaching the man a lesson! What swordplay!"

"I never knew he was this good," Zelda murmured.

"What?" The Prince turned to her in shock. "You know this man?"

"I…think so," she replied hesitantly.

"Well, who is he?"

She glanced down at the back of her hand.

"I think…" she swallowed, but before she could continue a moan resounded from the crowd. Her eyes shot to the pen frantically, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Corsaron was standing over his opponent, who was struggling to get up from being knocked on his back. The armor was keeping him from rising quickly, and the crowd began to be impatient with the obvious champion's manners. Corsaron reached a hand out in aide, but suddenly staggered back, clutching his midsection as though struck in the gut.

Xansarai had regained his feet and now began bearing down on his foe. Amazingly, as the death blow fell Corsaron raised his shield and blocked the vertical strike, lashing out with his sword at the same time. Caught off guard by the speed of the attack, the sword caught Xansarai in the bottom of his ribcage, penetrating the thick armor.

With a roar the black knight sprang back, raising his palm as a glowing ball of orange magic formed before his outstretched hand. A blue crystal hovered over Corsaron's head, but before he could complete the spell Xansarai's magic had struck.

The blue knight was hurled backwards from the force of the blow, orange light pulsing over his fallen form as though gnawing on his body. More than one spectator grimaced in disgust then cheered as the knight struggled to his feet.

Xansarai was waiting for him. Another wad of magic dug the knight once more into the dust. Visibly weakened, Corsaron pulled his body from the ground, still twitching in pain. The black knight approached, sword poised dramatically above his shoulder to with a single thrust, claim his trophy.

"No!"

But it was the black knight who, clutching a one-handed sword embedded in his vitals, lurched back and fell to his knees. It was the blue knight who, standing and advancing, waited for the Lord Xansarai to die.

Zelda sank back into her chair, limp with relief. Until with one final desperate motion, the black knight wrenched the sword from his abdomen and shoved it into the stomach of his vanquisher.

* * *

Link stared in shock at the cold metal blade as it slipped from his belly and flopped to the dirt. He wanted to cry, to scream at the surprise of the blow, at the unfairness. But it was rather difficult to speak when an iron cage pulls one to the ground and traps one in its suffocating grasp.

The steel rims of the separate plates were digging into his arm from the weight of his body pressed against the ground.

'_Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you? To escape the chains of the world heroically, with honor?'_

He wanted to smile. He wanted to feel free, to embrace death as he thought it would be, as he had dreamed so often. But it wasn't.

'_It wasn't supposed to hurt so much. I wasn't supposed to die in pain. This isn't how it was meant to be.'_

Someone rolled him onto his back and slipped off his helmet. The brilliancy of the sun blinded him. Why had he never noticed the blue of the sky?

Hands were fumbling with the buckles of his armor. He closed his eyes and waited, accepted whatever they would try to do.

'_No! Resist! Fight! They will only prolong your torment!'_

How many times had he imagined this very scene, and now it was here before him. He had rehearsed it so many, many times.

The heaviest of his armor had fallen away, exposing the chain mail and padding beneath. Someone began tugging the metal shirt over his head and another slipped off the chain trousers. His chest, freed from the constraints, sucked in air regardless of protest.

"One, two, three…"

Strong arms lifted and placed him on a stretcher, which rose and immediately began carrying him away.

"Chief? Kiln?"

Squinting against the sun, Link opened one eye to behold the lined face of Tendor, his faithful squire.

"Link…" he rasped, and passed into the shadows of a tent.

* * *

_To be continued! _


	16. Chapter 16

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' _By FrodoSilverlune

Disclaimer: Me no own Legend of Zelda. Um, a quick question. Does anyone else think I'm exaggerating the angst a little too much? Cuz I've been thinking maybe I have been. If you can relate at all to this story, I'd appreciate your imput.

**Chapter 16

* * *

**

Heedless of all but her fear and racing heart, Zelda ran. Holding her skirts well above the ladylike limit, her feet pounded the dirt in her dainty silk slippers as she flew to the knights' tents. She hardly heard Tylar catch up behind her, but instead saw the green banner fluttering in a breeze above a large white tent- the healer's tent.

Two guards saluted in surprise as she breezed past them, stopping so abruptly as she entered the dim interior Tylar ran into her back. A strange lump leapt to her throat and try as she might, she could not speak.

* * *

Link hated the smell. A sour scent of weakness, of infirmity entered his nostrils with every breath, and how hard it was to breathe!

_A great crushing weight drove onto his neck, shoulders, spine, driving his body into the ground. Flattened, he could not move, could not breathe. The incredible force held him immobile, and still it piled on. Any moment now his bones would be dissolved into the dust, the weight was too much. His lungs screamed, his brain starved, white began to cloud his vision, then it was gone. _

_Coughing and choking for air. Breathe, breathe. _

_Acid. Poisonous gasses constricted his throat, burned as a white-hot iron as they flooded his lungs. Eating at his flesh, tickling, disintegrating his windpipe. He could not scream for mercy; his voice was stolen. _

_It was gone. _

_Fresh air, but he could not trust it. Clutching his chest he fought to control his breathing, keep from sucking in air that could hurt later, but it was so hard. Coughing roughly, he came up with a mouthful of blood from his tortured throat. _

_Pain. Pain existed, always, forevermore. Surely the next attack would be the last._

He could not recall where he was, nor what had happened. Only a terrible, throbbing agony in his midsection told him otherwise. And it spread to his chest, to his lower belly, hips, shoulders. Burning.

'_Breathe.'_

'_No, the poison.'_

'_The poison is in you, not out.'_

'_Cannot escape…'_

He knew.

'_I am going to die.'_

Did they? They had to, the hands on him, touching him, rubbing, poking.

"Go away…" he blindly raised a hand to fend them off, but only more came. Why could he not be alone?

Suddenly, all was clear. He remembered.

Link opened his eyes.

"Please…send Tendor…"

The young man's face materialized almost instantly. He could have waited for an hour or only a minute; time had ceased to exist for Link. He looked calmly into his squire's eyes, searching.

"Take the prize, go back, give the lord his horses," he said, voice harsh and low. How much more could he say before time ran out?

"You've done well…"

"Chief, what are you saying?"

"Don't waste time, Tendor. In the end it's all you've ever had."

"Kiln…Link…you're going to get better, I know it. I'll do anything…"

Link looked away.

"Swear to me one thing," he said slowly, and Tendor nodded. A strike of pain flew to his head just then, and it was a while before it had subsided.

"Swear to me," he panted finally, "that you will abandon the life of a thief and pursue an honest living."

The younger man paused only for a second before answering.

"I swear it."

Link sank in relief. He nodded, too breathless to say another word.

"Do you want me to fetch the Lord Perean?"

Tendor had turned to leave on the errand when suddenly he froze, then dropped to his knees.

"Your majesty," he bowed before the Princess Zelda who stood transfixed, staring at the dying Chief.

Link lay on his back on a medical cot, blankets pulled to his shoulders to reveal his pale face, sweat glistening as he breathed heavily through parted lips. His blue eyes were closed, but his right hand gripping the gray blankets traveled to his chest and as it did, something glowed golden on the back of his hand.

Tendor watched in awe as the Triforce, the symbol of the Royal Family appeared on the hand of the Princess as well, and she walked slowly forward.

Suddenly Link's eyes flew open, darting from the Princess to Tendor, to the man who had entered with her, and he looked away.

"Link…"

The Princess nearly collapsed on her knees at his bedside, taking his hand tightly in her own. She pulled away the blankets to reveal a heavy swath of crimson bandage bound loosely to his bare torso. Deftly unwinding the knot, she removed the bloodied wrappings to reveal a horrible sword wound in the cleft between his ribcages, the location of the stomach.

Her lips pressed tightly together as she took her eyes away. Slowly, she took a deep breath and held her hand above the wound, placing her other on his forehead. Closing her eyes, she began to concentrate. A glowing white light appeared, forming over the wound.

"NO!"

The tent rang with the sound of Link's cry. The Princess, spell broken, drew sharply away as though stung.

"Why don't you understand? Leave…me…_alone!_"

Link blindly found the blankets and untidily covered himself, turning his pained expression away.

"No!"

Zelda grabbed his hand holding the blankets and pried them from his weak grasp.

"Stop it Link, stop right now. I know why you're here now, to finish what you started three years ago, and I tell you I will have none of it. Grow up, Link, and stop whining. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I've had enough."

"I didn't ask you to come," he said.

"But you knew I would. Did you think I wouldn't recognize you?"

Link remained silent, rigid with all he sought to contain. Another presence entered the scene; Perean stood soundlessly by Tendor's elbow, hardly daring to move as he waited for the Princess' next move.

Action was not long in coming. Scarcely had she detected Link's defeat before resuming what she had started.

The glow above the warrior's wound intensified until none could bear the brightness, and as one the attendees shaded their eyes. Slowly the light dimmed until at last expiring. Zelda pulled away and sank wearily into a chair Tylar eased into position. Tendor leaned forward, noticing Link's wound had ceased bleeding, although his skin still bore an angry red slash.

"I've healed the inside," the Princess said quietly. "The outside will do well enough on its own."

Link remained still, unspeaking yet awake. He did not thank her.

Once the Princess had regained energy, she rose, noticing at last the young nobleman and squire.

"Are you his friends?"

Perean bowed.

"No," he answered loudly. "I am not. If you claim such, I think it is my duty to relate his unlawful actions."

Zelda raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Unlawful?"

Perean nodded.

"Your majesty, he is the head of a band of thieves. Under his leadership they ambushed my party and stole our prize horses."

"What?"

Shock and confusion took turns playing across her eyes.

"Squire, is this true?"

Tendor bowed low, keeping his eyes averted as he swallowed nervously and nodded.

Flashing her inspecting gaze from one man to another, the Princess thought.

"Follow me," she said at last. "I wish to discuss this matter more thoroughly."

* * *

_To be continued!_ Thanks to all reviewers!


	17. Chapter 17

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed. You make me very happy. Sorry for the delay. Tell me if I need to add more explanation for Link's theiving. At least I have chapter 18 started...

**Chapter 17

* * *

**

Slowly, from far away he knew he was waking. Link cracked one eyelid.

A wagon. He was laying inside a canvas-covered wagon and it was moving. Opening both eyes, he carefully turned his head to behold a cross-legged figure resting against the upright wooden walls of their vehicle. She appeared to be asleep, but he couldn't be certain for the woolen cowl cloaking her bowed head. Various cream-colored bundles crowded the tiny wagon bed around him. Had he been kidnapped? Where was he going?

Link tried to move his limbs, but the torn muscles in his abdomen prevented most everything save his arms to flex. He wanted to sigh. How inconvenient.

'_So. I'm stuck lying in a wagon going somewhere mysterious. It could be worse.'_

He drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The first time she saw him, he was being carried on a stretcher into her father's home. Her brother pretended to scowl as the servants transported the injured young man upstairs, and for it she pinched him hard on the arm. 

"What grievance do you have against him?" She asked as Perean slapped her hand away and rubbed at the sore spot.

"What grievance!" His voice rose incredulously. "Oh, he merely captured me, held the horses ransom and stole the tournament under our name. He knows I shan't forgive him." Crossing his arms over his quilted blue traveling jacket, she knew he would have stalked away had he not been surveying the unloading of the wagons.

"So," she prompted, "who is he?"

"No one for my sister to concern herself with," he murmured.

"Now Perean, you know I have the duty to know who is under my roof."

Her brother sighed in defeat.

"He's a common thief masquerading as some hero."

"Yet you say he won the tournament?"

"Yes! He did. With luck."

She shook her head.

"Nevertheless, you must talk to him. He cannot leave here until he recovers."

"Unfortunately so," he grumbled, and sighed again. "His name is Link."

* * *

Captain Bergeron slammed his fist down on the table. 

"He betrayed us! I told you from the beginning he was too shady to trust, and now we discover at last his true identity! A spy for the royal family."

Tendor jumped to his feet, brows furrowed in anger.

"He is not a spy, uncle. Even if he was the Hero of Time, as the Princess says, we cannot know the truth until he returns to us to explain."

"And you call this betrayal?" Lady Allon gestured to the sacks of gold resting heavily on the table. "Tendor was free to return with the prize. He says he was not followed and Kiln is in the care of the Corsaron family. Now we must respect our end of the bargain and give the horses back. The Goddesses know we have more than enough sustenance now."

Bergeron sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, he may have kept his word so far, but wait and see if he returns of his own free will. I doubt now he has come out of hiding he will go back to the life of a thief. But _I_ shall teach him a thing or two about loyalty."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" Tendor glared at the Captain.

"No, I shan't. And to see I don't, you may accompany me when I return the horses." Bergeron smiled tensely. "I only want to have a little talk."

* * *

"Someone is here to speak with you." 

Link looked up from his book in surprise.

"Who is it?"

The maid swallowed nervously.

"He didn't give a name, but he says you will know your Captain."

Link shut the book and laid it on the bedside table.

"Will he wait a moment?"

The maid nodded and closed the door behind her. Link watched it shut and wished he could similarly block his past from returning to haunt him. Becoming a theif was wrong. Stealing was wrong, yet he had done it anyways. The walls he built had created a callous of apathy then. Yet in the short span of one week 'Kiln' had been demolished. His entire world had turned upside-down.Link had emerged from hiding. From who?

_'Yourself.'_

He stared blankly at the woolen blue quilt spread across his knees.

_'Wherever you go, Link, you cannot escape yourself.'_

_'What can I do?'_

He could try salvaging what remained of his honor.

Gingerly he slipped out of bed in a long nightgown, wishing he could dress fully but knowing previously his wound was not quite ready. He glanced around. Ah, a bathrobe was flung over the back of the chair by the fireplace. Now all he had to do was get there…

Carefully he let go of the bedpost and inched his way forward, reaching for the chair.

"Chief."

Startled, Link jerked toward the sound. Pain flared up in his twisted abdomen and he fell heavily to the floor.

Bergeron stood in the doorway unmoving as Link stood stiffly, using the chair for support.

"Captain," he said, wrapping the robe over his nightgown. The man's boots clicked on the floor as he came over by the fireplace and sat in the chair.

"I've returned the horses as you agreed, _sir_," he said oily.

Link nodded.

"I would have returned with Tendor, but for…"

"The wound, yes, we know. Couldn't the Princess heal all of it?"

"No. She did what she could."

"Ah, then you don't deny being the Hero of Time?"

Link knew this was coming, but he wished the timing wasn't so unfortunate.

"No," he said after a pause. "I was once…called that."

Bergeron's eyes pierced him with their intensity.

"The justice-preserving hero turns thief. I only ask for an explanation."

How could he explain? His mind raced numbly.

"Every man has their own story," he said carefully. "Mine is far from perfect."

"You say we were a mistake?"

Link sighed. The pain and weariness were combining to make him a bit short-tempered. He pushed his bangs back out of his eyes.

"I…do not _have_ a good explanation."

Bergeron raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Really?"

Dizziness assailed him. He tried to appear casual as he leaned against the bedpost.

_Trapped. Discovered. _

Torn. Where did his loyalty truly lie? He did not want to go back. Yet the chains of his past claimed his future. What had he done?

"I won't betray you," he said lowly, stalling. When would Bergeron force the bitter words from his mouth?

"Not yet. But enough. When are you returning, or have you planned to desert us?"

"As soon as I've recovered enough to travel." There. His fate was sealed. Grayness descended over the world.

"Good." The Captain rose and came to stand inches away from Link's face. "I wouldn't want to be crossed again."

Link turned his head away, nodding once.

With a mistrustful glance, Bergeron bowed mockingly and left.

Link wanted to escape. Run, fly far far away from the world. A place of rest. To a sweet, green country where his heart didn't squeeze so painfully in his chest.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	18. Chapter 18

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda. Good things will start happening, but I just have to torture him some more first. From bad will come good in this case, so stick with me. Sorry if I drag on the 'happily ever after,' but those are really hard for me to write. I don't really favor perfect endings, because they just aren't realistic here on earth.

**Chapter 18

* * *

**

"Are you absolutely certain you want to get up?"

The young man nodded his head firmly, and Layolin sighed. Perhaps a different tactic. She held up his worn green tunic, needle dangling on its thread where she had not quite finished patching a tear.

"Your clothes aren't ready. And I don't think my brother would lend you his, considering how upset he's been lately."

Link looked away, then began shifting towards the edge of his bed.

"Tsk tsk, stubborn I see. You know you won't be able to leave the room."

He nodded. She set her mending aside and rose to help him.

"Here," she said, taking hold of his left arm beneath his shoulder. "Hold onto me."

He shied away at her touch, recoiling as though burned.

"Is something wrong?"

"No…" he said softly, and did not meet her gaze. His unruly mane of thick blonde hair fell in strangled locks about his face. Where his nightgown split at the collar she caught a glimpse of a lean, muscular chest.

'_Handsome,'_ she grinned to herself. _'Lucky me. If only he'd talk more.'_ There was something about the young warrior drawing her to him, a great terrible mystery. She was a bit glad Perean hadn't told her much about him. It left more to discover on her own.

Layolin watched as he slowly drew himself free of the bed. Link had been in her home for a week now. Yesterday the horses had been returned and since then he had been quieter than usual. 'No' was the first word he'd spoken all day. She wondered if he was just shy, or if something had happened.

Link didn't understand why she was trying to help him. She was a Lady. Her servants had been attending to him before, why now did she place a delicate hand on his shoulder as he sank into a chair?

The young Lady helped him drape a blanket over his lap and went to draw back the thick drapes curtaining the chamber's tall window. Brilliant sunlight flooded the room as she thrust the fabric aside. Link found himself staring at the graceful swells of her body as the light accented the gentle folds of her burgundy gown.

'_What am I doing!' _

He cast his eyes away in shame and furiously studied the fine weave of his lap blanket.

'_How _dare_ you look at her like that, you pervert?'_

'_I didn't mean to…'_

'_Liar.'_

"Is something wrong?"

Link pulled the mask of impassivity over his face, hoping she hadn't seen. He tried to smile.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure."

She was beautiful. Hair of spun silk cascading in waves of reddish-brown down her back. Eyes bluer than the autumn sky, skin fresh as spring rain. He wondered again why she wasn't courting a nobleman instead of attending to his sick bed.

"Do you know when I will recover?"

She smiled, white teeth flashing.

"That depends on your determination. How fast do you want to?"

He twisted the thick fabric between his fingers, fidgeting, not having an answer. He was tired of pretending, of trying to please people.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Truly? You haven't eaten breakfast yet. I can have it sent up."

"You needn't bother. I'm not hungry."

She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you? Would you like some company?"

"No thank you. I'm fine."

"Very well."

The door closed softly behind her.

Link allowed his gaze to blend into the silence of the room.

Nothing.

See nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing.

He felt himself drifting dizzily. Up, back, down, forward. Rolling in a barrel. Bouncing on a huge drum. Weightless.

And again the circle turned in his head.

All he knew was that he could think of nothing else. If he did, he thought he'd go insane.

* * *

Numbly he made his way slowly down the long stone hallway. The gray floors were clean, sunshine gathered in golden pools at regular intervals from the tall arched windows, but Link kept from stepping into their light. His fingers grazed a large set of carved wooden doors. Cautiously he pushed one open.

He found himself in a library. Tall shelves of books raced to the vaulted ceiling, patterned in every color and size. Perhaps the room was small compared to Hyrule's library, but he didn't mind. It was large enough to accommodate two pairs of cushioned reading chairs, each set by one of the two windows draped in ivory.

Cautiously he stepped forward onto the dark green entrance rug. Magnetically his fingers found the red leather spine of the closest book at touching-level, and reverently he pulled it from the shelf.

'Of the Anatomy and Tending of Dogs'

The gilded silhouette of a hunting hound emblazoned the front cover.

Link had never spent much time reading, perhaps because he had never had the time or resources. Until now…

His eyes followed the rise of the grand bookshelf. He clutched the red book to his chest, thinking of the reading chairs, and allowed himself to distantly smile.

* * *

Two weeks after his initial arrival at the Corsaron Estate, the first attack came.

Link carefully closed the book on the wild dragons of Termina with a bit of regret, marking his place with a scrap of cloth. Dusk had stolen the last of the daylight illuminating his library; he could no longer see the pages and did not want to risk discovery by lighting a candle.

Shifting his weight, he rose from the chair.

His head exploded.

The book fell from his fingers as pain stole all strength from his limbs. He collapsed limply on the stone floor, oblivious to anything save the merciless hammering inside his skull, the throbbing deep within his brain.

His fingers grasped the roots of his hair as he curled into a ball on his knees, rocking back and forth as the agony reached into the very soul of his mind. He felt like he would be sick.

How long did it last? He did not know, but when, damp and shivering, he raised his head, the library was completely dark. A tingling sensation began to creep into his knees. They had 'fallen asleep' from being in a cramped position so long.

Link rolled over onto his side, shivering. The intensity had dulled somewhat, leaving with him a terrible headache and weakness in his arms and legs. Would his trembling allow him to walk?

'_What happened? I've never had such pain before.'_

Cold.

How nice it would be to snuggle into a warm cocoon of blankets, burrow into the soft mattress and nuzzle the pillow. He could almost pretend he was there. Almost.

'_Bed…'_

Perhaps he could move, if he was going to bed.

'_Bed.'_

He rose to his knees and the pain did not return. Gingerly his feet found the floor and be began stumbling forward, bent almost double, afraid to raise his head lest he reawaken the Pain.

Gradually he made his way over to the doorway, leaning against bookshelves, tabletops, walls, anything he could find. Cool metal met his fingers. He opened the door.

The moonlit hallway was impossibly long, but he had only one desire, and it _would_ be met.

Shadows had lengthened by the time he entered his room. There was the bed, made neatly and clean as he had left it. His muscles summoned the last of their reserve and meeting his reward, slid at last between the cool sheets, too tired to even remove his boots.

'_Thank the gods I haven't been outside lately,'_ he thought concerning mud, and drifted entirely away.

* * *

To be continued! 


	19. Chapter 19

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequel to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

Disclaimer: Me no own Zelda or Link or Malon or Hyrule. I do own the original characters, though…And for me reviewers, an extra-long chapter. Enjoy.

**Chapter 19

* * *

**

The night in the library was only the beginning, Link soon discovered. He had awoken the next morning without pain and refreshed. Yet nausea rose thick in his throat at the mention of breakfast, remembering how ill the headache had made him feel.

By the second day he was beginning to relax a bit, seeing as the attack hadn't repeated itself. But he was wrong.

The Pain hit him again, this time as he was preparing to venture outside. He only knew it was worse than before, and was glad he hadn't eaten anything lately, for dry heaves accompanied the splitting agony in his head. Barely reaching his room afterwards, he spent the rest of the day in bed trying to ignore the remaining throbbing in his temples. Link had never known such a lingering parasite. He had only ever had wounds, not problems.

When a maid knocked on his door in the evening, he called out he did not want to be disturbed, and she left him alone.

Layolin was more difficult to avoid.

"I've heard you haven't been eating well. Are you ill?"

She stopped him in the hall the day after his second attack. Link wanted to make himself as small as possible, but the headache had not completely left and it was difficult to think.

"I'm quite fine," he managed to say.

'_Liar.'_

Her head tilted, questioning.

"You're a bit pale, is there something you're not telling me?"

"I have a bit of a headache this morning," he said, trying to smile. "But it'll pass."

'_I hope that didn't jinx it...' _

'_Really, you should be less superstitious.'_

"Perhaps you should eat something. You could be hungry."

He paused, pretending to consider her suggestion.

"I suppose I could try," he said at last, noting with relief how she eased a bit. What made her do that?

"Would you like me to take you to the kitchens? Sometimes it's hard to pry a warm meal from Cook in the middle of her baking."

"Oh you needn't bother."

"Please," she grinned suddenly. "It'll give me an excuse to procrastinate my studies."

Trapped. Again. A dull blow rang mournfully through his skull.

"If it would please you."

How could he make her go away? If the headache wasn't enough, something about _her_ presence made him a bit uneasy. Why did she do this?

"What are you studying, if I may ask?"

"The history of Hyrule, currently the Golden Era. I normally enjoy history, but today I'm having trouble concentrating."

Her steps were brisk and purposeful, her simple blue day gown held gracefully in one hand to keep the hem from touching the floor.

"Do you have a tutor?"

She shook her head.

"My father provided one for my brother, but he would rather have me study the 'womanly arts.' Music, poetry, housekeeping, the like. I do all my other learning privately."

Link nodded in approval.

"It's harder to motivate oneself. You must be a very strong lady."

Layolin blushed.

"I try."

The pair had reached the kitchens. A warm wave boasting the aroma of fresh baked bread enveloped them as they entered. Link's stomach growled silently. At least the concept of food was inviting…

"Do you like venison stew? Cook says it's the first scoop of the pot."

He hadn't heard them talking. Venison was meat.

"I…"

'_Why does everything have to be so complicated?'_

"I'm sure it's delicious. Why don't you have it?"

She put the bowl in his hands.

"I can get another. Here, eat."

The Lady swept away, leaving him to seat himself at a small table against the wall. A black hound raised its head from lying in the corner, eyeing Link's bowl with begging eyes.

He sat at the table and waved his hand for the dog to come. The hound rose, stretching out its front paws, and ambled towards him, sitting on its haunches at Link's side. He scratched her head, gazing into her hazel eyes. The Lady and Cook were speaking, their backs turned.

Discreetly Link lowered his bowl until the dog began lapping at the stew, flicking droplets on his wrist.

'_Good girl.'_

Quickly he drew away the food when he saw their conversation end. The Lady was coming, her own bowl in one hand, a mug of water in the other. He stirred the remaining stew at his place as though he had been eating quietly all along. If only the dog would stop licking her lips…

Layolin didn't seem to notice.

"So what do you enjoy studying?"

Link shrugged.

"I haven't had much schooling, save in combat training."

"Do you wish you could learn more?"

"About what?"

"Oh everything!" She seemed shocked. Her sculpted eyebrows rose with the expression of her speech. "History, science, languages, art, arithmetic…you know none of these?"

Link rubbed the rim of his wooden bowl with his thumb.

"I would if I had been taught them."

"I thought knights were instructed in a variety of fields throughout their training."

"I didn't have time."

"Really? You must be at least twenty, and most squires begin their service at the age of seven. Not time enough in thirteen years?"

"No."

He wished she would leave him alone. He couldn't stir his stew many more times without seeming suspicious. But it was too late. Her almond-shaped eyes were already narrow and sharp with disbelief.

"Your master must have been a hard man."

He was being backed into a corner.

"Perhaps."

His head was beginning to pound thicker than before. Alarm rose within his chest. What if he had another attack here, now?

"Was he, by any chance, a pupil of Xanasari's?"

"No!"

He had to escape.

"Excuse me, my lady, but I must take my leave." He rose and pushed his chair back into the table.

"Are you certain? I haven't had my questions answered."

"I'm sorry, perhaps another time."

"But you'll be leaving soon, won't you?"

Link's heart sank further. Go back…

"I suppose I must." He set the remainder of the stew down in front of the dog. "She can finish it," he explained quickly, and slipped out of the kitchen.

Once he made certain she did not follow, he made a beeline for his room. He knew another attack was coming, he could feel the clouds gathering at the base of his skull.

He didn't make it.

Only two doors from his room the Pain hit, casting him hard to his knees in the hallway.

Between spasms the desperate urge to get out of sight propelled him a few feet closer to his goal before collapsing against the wall.

Footsteps.

With his forearms pressed against the floor the vibrations of heavy steps came clearly to his nerves.

'_No…'_

Somehow he lurched to his door and tumbled inside, kicking it shut behind him with a rather loud slam. Agony rippled through his limbs.

'_Make it stop.'_

Curled on the floor, he cast narrowed eyes up to his bed.

'_No, I don't want to form bad memories.'_

He turned once more back into the black world of his Pain, and remembered. Once, a lifetime ago, he had seen this. In the Battle the Sages had constructed for him the Creature had been huddled on the floor in pain.

Like now.

'_I cannot escape. There is no end.'_

"No end," he whispered.

'_No hope.'_

The Creature stood triumphantly and prepared to take control.

"No…"

Link felt tears gathering in his eyes. He didn't want the Creature. He loathed it, this poison in his soul.

"Make it stop," he whispered in a tiny voice, face twisted with the difficulty of this decision. "It hurts."

Months had passed since the new knife had last tasted blood. Over the past three years his collection of scars had grown steadily. Not an area of his body was untouched, it seemed. He hated looking at them as much as he had grown to detest the Knife. Yet it was all he had. He didn't want to turn to anything else destructive. They were bad.

'_Take the knife and accept my rule,'_ the Creature promised, grinning. _'This is all there is. No one cares. There is no hope.'_

"No one cares."

'_You saw the Princess with another man. She has a fiancé now. She cares nothing for you.'_

"Zelda…"

'_Malon hates you now.'_

"Malon, Epona, Navi…"

'_Yeah, where is that stupid fairy anyway?'_

"No one, nothing, no hope."

He had to end this. He couldn't stand it anymore, the pain, the loneliness, the uncertainty.

Link knew where his knife was, and where it could go.

'_Through the pain. End your pain.'_

"End. An end."

'_Rest. Have peace.'_

Link raised his eyes.

"So…tired…"

"Link!"

Layolin suddenly flew through the door and sank beside him. Link stared at her in surprise. Where had she come from?

"What's wrong? What hurts?"

He didn't know what to do.

"Why are you here?" He tried to straighten his spine. Lead seemed to fill his veins.

"I heard your door slam."

"Doesn't that usually mean someone wants to be alone?"

'_That was harsh.'_

"What?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

'_Get her out.' _

Her hand reached out and felt his forehead. For some reason, he didn't pull away. Something foreign rustled in the depths of his chest. Her hand felt…nice.

'_She's touching your filth. Get her OUT!'_

Layolin's face grew stern from concentration, and she moved her hand to the back of his neck, pressing a thumb to the vein beneath his left ear.

'_She cares.'_

'_IDIOT! I warned you, you'll only hurt her! Save her from your pain. Send her away.'_

'_Save her…'_

Link pulled away and she drew back her hand.

"Your pulse is fast. What happened? Was it your head?"

He nodded, preparing to stand.

"Oh, be careful!" She took his arms and helped him rise. "You should lie down. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

Layolin left him supported by the bedpost and drew back the covers.

"Here, lie down and I'll get something cold for your head."

"Really, it was only a headache. I'm quite fine now."

She smiled to herself and guided him by the shoulders to sit.

"Only a headache…hmm. You're pale as snow and shaking. Now take off those boots and get comfortable."

He hesitated, not knowing what the proper thing to do was. He couldn't go to bed in the middle of the day! But would she be hurt if he didn't? And his head wasn't much better, practically radiating red heat.

"Well I'm not going to take them off for you," she said, hands on hips as she watched him slowly remove his boots. Rolling onto his side away from her, he pulled the blankets up until they nearly covered all his hair.

"I'll be back," she said softly, and left the room.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	20. Chapter 20

**The Fountain's Child**

Sequel to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune

Disclaimer: I don't own Legend of Zelda. Thanks to reviewers. This chapter is short, sorry, but I needed to end it where it ends.

**Chapter 20

* * *

**

It is too easy to give in. Flinging off the burden of unending battle becomes incredibly alluring when one is weary. Tired of fighting a foe who returns again and again, each time with new tactics, and one must conjure up the strength to thrust him away, for a while.

Link was too worn-out to care. Let them poke and prod and do what they like to his body. As long as they let him sleep, for it was only in the blessed realm of slumber that he could find rest. Simple, pure, oblique. And alone.

Hands would touch him. Pressing, grazing, testing. Voices drifted in and out, words, phrases, enough to register the fact that he was ill and not recovering very quickly. It mattered not, as long as they didn't take away the dark sanctuary of his mind.

* * *

Layolin sighed and sat beside Link's still form stretched on the bed. Pale golden hair pulled away from the fine bones of his innocently-formed face, closed eyelashes and sealed lips marking strange color amongst the shadows of his skin, milk-tinted under a slight tan.

One hand was tucked beneath the pillow, the other quietly set upon his blanketed chest. The cream-colored night gown fell open at his throat, revealing the ever-more prominent bones of his upper rib cage through thin, sensitive skin.

If only he would awaken…

A wise midwife had given what Layolin considered the most insightful comments. The old woman, after giving him a quick examination of which Link hadn't given the slightest inclination of feeling, had declared a broken heart.

Surprising indeed. Yet given the clues, her diagnosis seemed to fit. No appetite. Headaches, a downcast spirit, and now this sleep he hadn't woken from.

'_Have you been betrayed? Have you lost a sweetheart?'_

She wanted to ask him, to have him speak to her and release his burdens. This surprised her.

'_Men are unfeeling animals,'_ she had been working to convince herself. Yet here was a soul in need who was turning her world up-side down. What was wrong with friendship? Absolutely nothing, if she could gain his trust.

"Link," she spoke softly. "Wake up. Are you hungry? I have some food for you, but if you don't wake up I'm going to eat it myself."

Nothing.

"Hey, wake up now. Rise and shine! You've slept long enough."

Silence.

She sighed and set her bowl on the bedside table. Suddenly something brushed against her leg, and she started in surprise. Looking down Layolin beheld a good-sized pussy cat, long brown fur groomed to perfection as she stared up at her with the greenest eyes.

Layolin bent and scooped the purring creature into her arms, scratching her beneath the chin as she gazed once more at the subject of her musings. The cat wiggled in her grasp and she set her upon the bed. Instantly the feline stepped delicately to Link's face and, after inspecting his scent carefully, began licking his hair.

Stifling her giggles behind her hand, Layolin watched with delight as the cat, having sufficiently cleaned his sideburns, progressed steadily towards his eyebrows, purring all the while. She could imagine how it must tickle, having the rough pink tongue giving her face a bath.

Link twitched. When turning his face away only resulted in paws pressing deep into his neck in order to reach his hairline, a grogy hand swatted clumsily at the intruder.

Layolin could contain her amusement no longer. She let out a chuckle, which grew to a laugh as Link's eyes opened in annoyance and astonishment. Then, to her surprise, he smiled.

His face transformed. As though an entirely new person, invisible wrinkles eased and tiny muscles relaxed; a golden tide poured over his countenance. And although he saw only the cat, such beauty flowed from the love in his blue eyes her heart caught in her breast.

'_Oh,'_ was all she could think. _'Oh, if only those eyes would look at me with such purity, with such trust and adoration.'_

And suddenly, the voice came to her thoughts.

'This is his heart.'

'_Oh my Lord, why doesn't he allow people to see him?'_

'Because he has been hurt, and he needs My love.'

'_Will you use me? Please use me to heal him.'_

And she knew, she felt the One smile.

* * *

_To be continued!_


	21. Chapter 21

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to Hero by FrodoSilverlune _Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Been gone... Enjoy!

**Chapter 21**

* * *

Goddesses, she was beautiful. He must look like an idiot staring at her so often. Link tried to concentrate on the slender branches of the climbing roses arching overhead, forming a sun-dappled tunnel of green fragrance. It was hardly noon, yet cold sweat trickled down his sides and back from the heat of the spring morning. He listened to the twittering of love-struck sparrows in the hedge. 

'_If only we could be like the birds…'_

"No!"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"I was just…looking at the birds."

"Oh…if you say so."

Link hoped the speckled shade hid the blush in his cheeks.

'_I am so stupid, why can't I stop thinking about her? I can never have her, never, never never, NEVER! Stop it!'_

His breath caught short in his chest and he coughed.

"Here, sit down a bit. You've only been up since yesterday."

Although he would have rather continued walking about the garden, he knew he was still not recovered. Sick all the time…hurt, badgered, ill…dreadfully annoying.

Layolin did not sit beside him, but began idly breaking off dead twigs and last year's buds from the arching wall, leaving him on the stone bench.

"You needn't watch over me," Link said, trying to banish the image of sun kissing her hair red-gold from his mind's eye.

"I like to." She turned warm eyes to him and smiled. He shivered, torn between worthlessness and hunger. For what? Questions, questions, and never answers.

'_Never.'_

"Would I offend you by asking personal questions?"

Link raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"What? Offend…no, of course not."

She grinned.

"Thanks." The young lady settled on the other end of the bench.

"I've been curious about our previous conversation. You remember, don't you? Before you fell ill I had been asking…"

"I remember."

Layolin looked up in surprise from twisting a daffodil between her fingers.

"Oh. Well, I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you a knight?"

"No."

"Then how did you win the competition?"

"I trained at the castle with the knights, but was never given the official title."

"Why? You could have been…"

"Ganondorf."

"Oh."

She was silent for a while. Link hoped he hadn't brought painful memories to her mind. Those days had been hard on the people. Land stolen, homes destroyed, families ripped apart. He hadn't been the only one who suffered. During the Quest he had witnessed more pain and betrayal in the eyes of the Hylians than he ever hoped to see. Oftentimes it was the tears of the orphans giving him strength and endurance, a purpose to live for, amidst the dungeon trials when his own conviction was waning.

"You must have been young then. Did you fight in the war?"

Layolin was referring to the Last Stand the united army had made against the Evil King's forces outside the Castle. He hesitated before answering.

"Yes, of sorts."

"How did you survive the Seven Years, then? Or should I not ask?"

Link shifted, tracing the path of a beetle as it wandered through the dirt.

"I was in hiding."

"Where?"

Must she ask so many questions?

"In Hyrule," he said shortly, and sighed. "I trained with a master in the forest until the Hero of Time began his Quest. My master deemed me fit enough to care for myself, and I…"

He paused, hating to lie, especially to her.

"If this is too painful for you we don't have to continue."

What would she say if she knew? Hadn't they told her by now? He began slowly.

"How much do you know about the Hero and his Quest?"

She shrugged.

"Oh a little. That using the Ocarina of Time the Hero traveled throughout Hyrule and even Time itself awakening the Seven Sages. He rescued the Princess and killed the Evil King, freeing the land from a seven year tyranny. Why? Did you meet him?"

Link stared at his hands, studying his fingernails.

"Oh yes."

"Really! What is he like? Is he as handsome and kind as the stories say?"

Bother. He hoped she wouldn't notice him turning red.

"Actually he looks a lot like me."

She laughed, delighted.

"Then he must turn a lot of heads. How did you meet?"

Link sighed again. How terrible to dash her heroic fantasies.

"Don't you understand? _I'm_ Link."

Layolin twisted in confusion.

"I know you're Link, but I was asking about…"

"The 'Hero.'"

Silence. Somehow her silence was worse than her questions. His spirit sank.

"You're the Hero of Time?"

Link rose and began walking back to the house. How stupid. He shouldn't have told her.

'_She deserved to know.'_

'_Well there goes another friend.'_

'_She wasn't your friend to begin with.'_

"Wait! Link!"

Her slippers patted the earth heavily as she ran to catch up with him. Coming around to stand in his path, she stopped, forcing him to cease walking as well. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I don't think less of you, if that's what you assume. I still want to be your friend."

"What?"

Link couldn't help but stare up in surprise.

"After all you've seen how broken I am, you still want to be my friend?"

She nodded, eyes smiling, hopeful. He didn't understand. Why on earth was she so interested? His eyebrows narrowed in distrust.

"What do you want from me?"

Shocked, she drew back.

"Want? Why would I want anything from you? You mean, you think I am trying to use you?"

"You tell me."

Hurt flickered in her expression. His heart twisted within his chest. Was he testing her? Why did he think to care for someone meant to hurt them? More pain…was there ever an end?

"I'll say this again if you would like me to. I want to be your friend. Not for personal gain, but because I think you're worth it. Don't you know what a friend is?"

'_I thought I did…'_

She continued, seeing he didn't answer.

"A friend is someone who loves. Not because they want something from you, but simply because they enjoy your company. They want to build a relationship, to tell you about themselves and to know about you in return. To help, to support, to strengthen. A friend gives without expecting anything in return, and keeps on giving. Don't you have a single friend?"

Link thought. Zelda? Maybe they could have been friends, but really, they were only good acquaintances. Malon? She was the closest he had ever come to having a friend, but always there was something in the way, driving a wedge between each and every one of his relationships.

Himself.

'_You are the problem, your stupid pride. Your stupid problems. Your senseless, idiotic 'pain.''_

"It wasn't their fault."

"You think it was yours?"

He turned on her, flashing.

"It _was_ my fault. _I'm_ the problem, not them. They've only ever been nice to me, and I threw it in their face. I was the great 'hero,' and I couldn't even save myself." He pointed at his chest. "This is the price that was paid for Hyrule. I was sacrificed, so that you might be happy. But people don't understand they need to let me go. They expect me to live happily ever after, but they don't understand. You don't understand. Now let me by."

He tried to shove past her, but a touch on his shoulder froze him in his tracks.

"Link, you're not dead."

He rolled his eyes.

"You call what I have a life?"

Her eyes met his, filled with sorrow, yet hope. How could that be?

"You have suffered greatly, but you survived. There is yet a purpose for you, Link. They told you your destiny was to fulfill the quest, but they were only half right. There is life beyond the grave, there is forgiveness. There is hope!"

Truth is not an easy thing to hear. It hurt, piercing through the foggy barriers he had built across his soul. He knew she spoke the truth. How? Something inside him, a new Presence, coming to the famished, dried voice screaming for healing. The raw, gaping wound in his heart bled as the Light touched its edges. But it was sweet. Pure and holy.

_'I want to be clean.Please, I need something. Is this what I've been looking for?'_

With tears in his eyes, Link turned toward her.

"Show me."

* * *

To be continued! 


	22. Chapter 22

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequal to 'Hero' by Frodo Silverlune_

**Chapter 22

* * *

**

"Allow me to tell you a story." Layolin smoothed her skirts and leaned back in the cushioned armchair before the fireplace. Link stared into the flames, listening.

"In the beginning, the One was. He clapped his hands and created servants, His Messengers, sending them to wield His power. Through three our world was created. The sun, the moons, stars, plants, animals were sung into being through the Song of the Servants. And upon the new world the One descended. From the sea he drew a single drop of water and shaped it into a Man."

Her voice took on the sing-song of a storyteller repeating a much-loved tale.

"The One set the man upon the earth and breathed life into his lungs. And he lived. The one set His servants to establishing law and order, to naming and taming the wildest of the beasts. But the man was sad to be alone. So the One caused him to fall asleep, and while he slept drew half his heart from his body and healed him. And from the heart the One created a companion, a woman."

She sighed.

"It was beautiful, how the man and his woman would walk beside the One. But before the world began the Absence had already rebelled, and the Curse was already beginning to take root. Through trickery and deceit the Absence turned black the soul of the man, separating man from the One forever. Thus was the race of man cursed even before he had begun to live. From that day until this all Creation has been in a struggle to regain what the Absence has taken."

"How come I know none of this?" Link turned his gaze from the fireplace and searched her face for any sort of lie. To his frustration none could be found but love, and a desire to share something of what she had. Layolin smiled sadly.

"The powers of evil seek always to distort and diminish the truth. For there is truth, as surely as you and I exist. People try to find satisfaction in half-truths. But every half-truth is half-lie, and they only end up falling into the Absence and deceiving themselves. The goddesses worshiped in Hyrule temple: Din, Faore, and Nayru, are the servants the One sent to create the world. However, in turning away from the One, a long time ago people sought to create their own deities instead of worshiping and serving the One."

"And the Triforce? The Sacred Realm? The sages? How do you explain those?"

Layolin smiled.

"First, do you understand what I'm saying? Does it make sense?"

Link nodded.

"I suppose so. So what you're saying is the evil is the absence of the One?"

She nodded enthusiastically, beaming.

"Yes. Now about the Triforce. The people only told you what they themselves believed. It might not have been the entire truth. What happened is this."

Layolin took a sip from a goblet and cleared her throat. The firelight danced across her eyes, throwing golden sparks against the shadows playing across her face.

"When the Absence corrupted the world, the servants sealed away a part of the world as it had originally been intended as before the Absence could taint it."

Link's eyebrows came together in confusion.

"You mean…the goddesses stole a part of the world and it became the Sacred Realm?"

She nodded slowly.

"They aren't goddesses, but yes, they did.."

Link waved his hand.

"Whatever. Go on."

"So this realm, since the servants were not all-powerful, could not actually exist in the real world. It is sustained only as long as our world is sustained. Do you understand? It's not in the physical world…it's in the spirit world. It's like the mirror that reflects, and our world is the reflection inside of it. A shadow, a copy of the real thing. I don't fully understand it myself."

"That's confusing," Link mused. Layolin nodded.

"Whenever people try to play the One, they complicate things."

"What about the Triforce?"

"I'm getting to that. The One knew if the realm became tainted, the world would only be thrown into more chaos. So He called His servants to Him and told them to guard the Sacred Realm against all intruders. Thus they did for two thousand years. Yet even in the Sacred Realm they were not safe from the temptation the Absence offered. Disguised as a Messenger, the Evil came to the gates of the realm and planted an idea in their minds. If they could fashion a power to guard the realm, they wouldn't have to ceaselessly sit near the gates. As long as they held the keys to the gates, they would be free to do as they pleased. Thus the servants made the Triforce. From the purest gold in the realm they fashioned the indestructible Triangle and poured their strength into it: power, wisdom, and courage. And taking the Keys, they left the Triforce to guard the Sacred Realm."

Link shook his head, enraptured. Layolin nodded.

"You can guess what happened. While yet weakened from their task, the Absence set upon the servants and stole the keys to the realm. Yet not all was lost. The One, although grieved by His servants' disobedience, sent a great army to besiege the Evil and win back the keys. A great battle was fought here on this earth, both physical and spiritual. Many men lost their lives in the struggle against the Evil and its creatures. Yet in the end the One prevailed. The keys were set in the hands of the ruler appointed by the One to guard them. Others stepped forward and offered their services to fill the void the servants had abandoned. These and their descendents became the Sages, those who guard the Sacred Realm against entrance of the Absence. And the keys…"

"The Master Sword. The Ocarina of Time," Link nodded, lost in thought.

The silence of the room was unbroken, save for the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

"Do you understand what you carry? You carry the power of the One within you, Link! He deems you worthy enough to guard it."

Link stared at her. Could it be true? He remembered the fear of the Triforce leaving him. Dare he look at his hands? Layolin reached forward and took his hands in her own.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "The One has a purpose for you. He loves you. You need proof? You exist. You will find your purpose when you seek to serve Him."

Link's mind whirled with the conversation. It was as though a door had been opened; he had been seeing the world through a black veil. Could it be true?

'_As surely as you exist…'_

It was.

* * *

To be continued! Thanks for the reviews! Come on people, help me break a hundred! Know you can... 


	23. Chapter 23

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequel to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

**Chapter 23

* * *

**

This had to stop. Once again, too far too fast. Slowly.

_Slow down, Link. Be careful. Cautious. Slow._

It was an interesting story, about the One and the Sacred Realm. It made sense, yet was confusing. How could he be chosen to carry the Triforce of Courage by a being so much more powerful and all-knowing? He was only a boy, and a rather sorry one at that. He didn't understand.

Time. He needed time to think, to figure things out. To analyze the subject from all angles possible and arrive at the only logical solution.

"I must leave."

Layolin looked up from her book with a start. Her eyes searched him silently before nodding.

"You will come back?"

Link shrugged.

"I'll try. If I can."

Her countenance fell, but she only said "I'll miss you."

He offered a tiny smile and bowed his head. Thank goodness she didn't try to persuade him to stay. Did that mean she didn't like him? He nodded and disappeared from the room.

* * *

The glade was emptied. Leading his horse by the head, Link slowly walked among the deserted huts and buildings, already falling into neglected disrepair. So the Nadai had finally left. 

In a way he was relieved, glad the band had gone into honest living. Yet at the same time loneliness gnawed hollowly at his heart.

Coming to the once-honored lodge, he left his horse to graze and solemnly climbed the two steps leading up to the front door. It was unlocked, and gave easily to the slight pressure of his hand.

Bars of evening sunlight highlighted disturbed dust motes as his presence stirred the still air of the meeting room. All furniture and decorations had been stripped from the walls: nothing remained save the bare wood floors and stone fireplace. His boots echoed on the floorboards as he crossed to the hearth and ran his palm along the oak mantle. As he drew his fingers away, a layer of dust grayed his skin.

What was he to do? Search for his band? Return to hiding?

'_What now?'_

Link sighed as he allowed his hand to drop from the mantle. Another choice, another crossroads. The thought of being a thief sickened him now. Regret began to sink in.

'Theif. Law breaker. Criminal.'

"Criminal…" he whispered. He had broken the same law scarce a century ago he had fought to maintain.

* * *

"Wait for it…" 

He felt no emotion as, balanced on a thick tree branch high above the traveling entourage, he kept his arrows' aim fixed solidly on the captain of the guards. The slight gap between helmet and breastplate was too easy to miss, especially for him.

Twenty feet below and closing distance steadily came the Duke's party. Three covered litters upon the backs of slaves supported the Duke's wife and two daughters, traveling who knew where through the thickest part of the forest. Dusk was just beginning to creep through the trees, throwing deep shadows and gray spots concealing the party lying in ambush.

Red. The color of blood boldly hung from the horses' saddle blankets and was wrapped around the spear-shafts of the guards. Five guards, easy enough. The rest were servants and slaves, more willing to run than stand and fight.

Link's breath wrapped hot around his face, trapped by the black sash he had wound about his features. The rest of the band was garbed in green and brown, the colors of the forest.

He released the arrow.

Sliding from his saddle, the slain captain hit the ground with a metallic crash, his shining armor beginning to dull with blood and dust. Shouting, the remaining guards began to wheel their horses about to defend the party, in vain. Four more arrows shot from cover and found their marks at last.

Screams from the litters as they dropped hastily to the ground. Twelve muscular slaves rallied about the women and their attendants, huddled together in a tight circle.

Jumping up from the brush came the band, surrounding the party, outnumbering them two to one. Link watched from his tree, already another arrow fitted to his bow and his gaze fixed on the head of the tallest slave.

Weeping, the Duke's wife agreed to the terms hastily set forth by their leader and began removing her jewelry. A part of the band broke away to hunt through the baggage, yet Link did not abandon his post. He mistrusted the tall slave, who seemed to be incredulous at the thought of giving up so easily.

His intuition proved correct. The instant the band's leader had turned away, the slave jumped forth and tackled him to the ground. Drawing upon his magic, Link's arrow crystallized with ice and streaked into the ground beside the struggling bodies. Instantly a prism of blue ice formed around the slave, freezing him with his arm raised to strike.

The leader wiggled out from under the block, breathing heavily. All movement had stopped in wonder at the sight of the magic ice. Even the band members ceased pawing through their treasure to stare at the frozen slave.

As soon as the leader was clear and had snatched up his weapon, Link released his hold on the magic and the block slowly melted away, leaving the suffocated slave to crumple lifelessly to the ground, frost clinging to the fibers of his red uniform.

Link found he was a bit short of breath himself, and he leaned back against the tree trunk, rolling his shoulders. Apparently using magic for bad was more draining than using it for good.

'_Ganon must have been very strong, then, especially because of the battle in the tower.'_

'_Idiot. He had the triforce of _Power.'

He sighed, just in time to see the leader decapitate the fallen slave, laughing. Link cringed, regretting what he had done.

'Oh well, it's over now.'

The display of power had drained the fighting will out of the remainder of the defenders, and their hands were quickly bound behind them, blindfolds wrapped around their eyes.

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Link quickly descended the tree. Already some of the men had begun to touch the women. One particularly foul-minded villain dared to grab the face of one of the duke's daughters, and was felled at the end of Link's fist.

"What was that for?" Another challenged angrily. "They's part of the spoils, same as gold. I want me a woman."

"They are_ not_ to be harmed," Link growled, standing between the ladies and his band.

"What's this?" Their leader stepped forward and glared down at his defiant underling.

"The women will be defiled over my dead body," Link stated, meeting the captain's gaze with stony resolution. Their leader grinned and turned, gesturing to his men.

"Anyone want to challenge Kiln?"

Silence was the answer.

Grumbling the men returned to their tasks, bagging their treasure and tying it down on the horses and pack animals.

"You're lucky to get out of this alive, lady," one snapped as he passed, flashing a nasty sign in Link's direction. Ignoring him, Link turned to the Duke's wife.

"I intend to guide you safely towards your destination," he said shortly. "Come."

"You're taking our horses, clothes, everything?" Her voice rose high in distress, and Link shut the doors to his heart. There was no escape from the life he had chosen.

"Be thankful you keep your dignity," he said, and ushered them down the path.

* * *

Link woke with a start, eyes wide in the darkness. An owl moaned outside the window and he lay in a patch of moonlight on the common room floor. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the men he had killed. Remorse filled his chest, the images of tears streaking down women's faces vibrant in his mind. He remembered a child, her doll being snatched from her hands and crushed under the heel of a grinning thief. What had he done? Turned away and erased the image from his conscience.

But no, they had not vanished. Now, alone, in the sweet quiet of the night, his fingers found the polished handle, and his arm was bare. He would be punished, now and always, for the doll. For the women. For the lives he had stolen with such black apathy.

In the moonlight blood was black. Dark as the essence of his heart, as he knew it was. They were wrong, everyone was wrong. He was evil.

In the moonlight tears were silver. He wiped them away, leaving black streaks to mingle with silver moisture.

He needed to change. He wanted healing, repentance. Surprisingly his thoughts turned to Layolin and what she had said about the One. There had to be more to the story.

He needed, no, hewas going to find out.

* * *

To be continued! 

FANART! Done by the talented paperdemon on this story! Go to my bio for the link. And thanks linksage, I need you to email methe pictures because I didn't get them in the review, if you sent them. Much love!


	24. Chapter 24

**The Fountain's Child**

_Sequel to 'Hero' by FrodoSilverlune_

**Chapter 24

* * *

**

Today was a new day.

Link stepped out into the morning sun, inhaling deep of the crisp morning air. Something had happened last night in the abandoned hall. He felt different, somehow. But it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. The last time his mind had been so clear was…years ago. When had he last been so…resolute? He couldn't exactly place a finger on what had happened, but he thought if someone asked him, he might reply

"I have found a purpose."

Whatever it was, things had changed. No, he had changed. A small bit, but still, there was a difference.

Never before had he really paid much attention to the colors in the glade. Amidst the golden morning sunbeams floated white insects and dust mites. Steam rose in ever-changing whisps from the dewed grass and rooftops, swirling into obscurity as it stretched into the warming air. The grass had grown long in the gardens behind the low thatched huts. A rabbit hopped under the bottom rail of a densely weeded patch. Stopping suddenly, its nose quivered, whiskers twitching as its brown fur became taught with alertness. The rabbit jerked its beady black eyes upon Link, watching, regarding. Eventually, with a bound it disappeared around a bush and Link exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

"_The people only told you what they themselves believed. It might not have been the entire truth."_

Layolin's words ran over and over through his head. Was there really more than what he had always believed? Had he been following a lie?

But then, who was she to tell him he believed a lie? What if she was telling him a lie as well?

"_You need proof? You exist."_

One thing he could count on, though sometimes he wished it wasn't true. He, Link, was alive. He was conscious. He felt things, thought things, did things. He existed.

So if he existed, there must be a way to exist. He didn't quite know how to explain it, but because he existed, the world must as well. And if the world existed, there must be a certain order to things to make it be so. To keep it going.

He was real. The world was real. But how did it become so?

That was the question he sought to answer. His new quest. He would discover the truth behind life, and about the One and the Goddesses.

Link knew he shouldn't cut himself, that it was wrong. But why was it wrong? People telling him it was wrong didn't count in his mind. It brought him solace of a sort, although a rather adulterous one. Yet he knew, way back in his conscience, that it _was_ wrong.

If it was wrong, then there must be a reason why. And there must be some sort of way to make it right.

He couldn't explain these kinds of things to someone. It was why he needed to go away, to think these things through.

This was an enormous task.

'_Small steps. Baby steps, Link. One at a time.'_

He had an idea of where to begin. At least it was a start. And maybe, just maybe, it might be a little easier than he imagined.

Link exhaled, stretched, and took a step forward.

* * *

**The End…of Part Two**

Gah...I tried to update a few days ago and stupid computer...anyways, _**NEW FANART**_! Last chapter I made a mistake. The art is by _Kichi_, notpaperdemon. That's the site. And there is MORE art, by _LinkSage_ at Go to my bio for the links. See y'all in a few weeks with the beginning of the conclusion of our suffering hero's tale of woe...Part III (of this series I didn't mean to take so long but it did, and i don't really mind. Things come in threes, so this will be the last one. Pinky promise.)


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